Title: Lethal Triangle

Author: Tolanya

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Star Ocean or any of the characters. If I did, I assure you Albel would not be an optional character and Sophia would not exsist. Donate one dollar and a cookie to help make this dream come true. Oh, and I stole Slashapalooza's format for introducing a story type thing (She's a great Kingdom Hearts Riku/Sora fluff author though). I don't even own that. sob

Rating: M. But that doesn't mean I'm going to give you lemons. It means violence, men making out, alcohol, extremely foul language, and everything else you love.

Summary: AU Fayt's being forced to marry Sophia, a famous fashion designer and the richest woman on Earth, who's henchmen killed Fayt's true love years ago. Or did they? My summary is lame because I wrote it at 1:06 AM. Fayt/Albel.

Pairings: It's pretty much just Fayt/Albel.

Setting: The richest city on Earth. I couldn't think of a good name for the city, so notice how I avoid saying it.

Author's Note: My first fanfiction ever….Ah, I'm so scared you guys won't like it! Give me lots of reviews and then I'll keep writing. Acctually, I'll keep writing even if you don't review, because I have chapters 2 and 3 on paper already in my little green notebook, but I'll feel inspired to post them sooner if you review nicely. Um, I believe I owe some people some thank yous. First off, my sister, editor and "Take your notebook to school and write during class!" person, who's name I think I'm aloud to say, but I didn't get her permission! Melissa! She didn't edit the last 12 pages or so of this when I typed it because she was asleep. Acctually, when I'm writing this I just finished the typing, so she IS asleep. Anyway, she made this possible by editting it, laughing at it, laughing at me, and otherwise inspiring me to write. Um, I also have to thank my friend Brittany! She probably won't ever read this because her parents don't let her do diddly squat according to her, and reading yaoi fanfictions is diddly squat.

Chapter 1: Old Memories

A young blue-haired man sat on a lush, grassy hill over looking a giant city- brightly lit with artificial glow at night. The man looked up at the sky, admiring the stars, while deep in thought. His name was Fayt, and he was remembering. Remembering another man. Albel, he thought longingly.

Albel was the tall, dark and handsome sort with a wicked streak- and Fayt had fallen in love with him the minute he saw him standing alone in a dark, empty corner of a middle school boy's locker room. And Albel had loved him back. Fayt remembered perfectly the way the other man's crimson eyes bored into him, watching his every move. But now... now, Fayt was separated from his lover, and engaged against his will. But it's not as if any other man would complain about marrying Sophia Esteed. She was beautiful, and rich to top it off. She had long, perfectly straight brown hair that framed her beautiful pale face and fell neatly around large, innocent green eyes.

Looks aside, Sophia had been an ordinary girl until she discovered her talent for fashion and made billions with her own lines of designer clothing. She was the envy of every woman on Earth, maybe even in the whole galaxy, and every man's dream. Sophia got everything she wanted, and what she wanted more than anything else (for the moment at least) was to marry Fayt. If it had been any other woman, Fayt would have refused, but Sophia had men ready to shoot anyone, anytime she wanted.

Sighing, the young man picked a tiny yellow flower off the ground and absently pulled the petals off it, watching the little specks of yellow fall onto the cool, green grass next to his tears. All his memories of Albel could bring was pain and nostalgia. And maybe even guilt, for letting everything happen to him.

Yet, Fayt couldn't help but remember. Albel wasn't the sort of man you could just forget. He was beautiful- tall, with pale skin and black and blonde hair that hung over deep crimson eyes and fell down past his thin shoulders. Albel had unmatched skill with his sword, but he more often found himself wielding a gun. In fact, he seemed to have found himself shooting to often for his own good.

Albel was a killer. Most who'd heard of him simply referred to him as a desperate, albeit skilled, mercenary, or perhaps a serial killer in need of money. But Fayt knew better, and so did most who had actually met the man. Albel was a killer, and it was in his blood to murder. He wasn't desperate for money, he was desperate for lives. He found satisfaction in watching another life end, knowing he did it, money or no money. But to Fayt, it didn't matter what Albel was. When he was in love, Albel was possessive, but surprisingly loyal and passionate for a man who valued the lives of others so little. That was the Albel Fayt loved. And wanted back.

Standing up, Fayt brushed several bits of grass and flower petals off him. The breeze blew his hair away from green eyes as he stared intently down at the city. Sighing, Fayt walked down the hill towards the bright, lively streets in front of him. He wasn't in the mood to remember any longer. He needed a drink. Something strong enough, perhaps, to keep Albel off his mind. Although, Fayt had often searched for such a drink, and it all just made him remember Albel more. Maybe that was why he liked alcohol so much- Albel's breath always smelled of smoke and his lips tasted faintly of beer.

Reaching the city, Fayt walked down familiar streets, watching the people go by. It was a large city, and fairly rich, too- considered one of the most fashionable places in the universe. Stylish clothes were carefully placed on mannequins or models that posed behind polished glass windows beneath designer names at nearly every shop on the street. Fayt walked further back the streets, entering the shabbier back streets where the lower class of the city was- mainly servants for richer people. Finally, he came to a small, wooden tavern with a flickering green neon sign that read "CHEAP DRINKS!" Fayt yanked open the door and entered.

The room was poorly lit by a few rusty lamps dangling on old chains from the ceiling. Wooden floorboards creaked underneath Fayt's large blue boots and he stepped further in, glaring at the few men who looked up at him. Several other drunk men slouched in their chairs, while two tall, tough looking men fought in the middle of the tavern, surrounded by cheering drunkards. Ignoring the brawl, Fayt walked straight to the bartender. She was a slim, attractive woman with long light brown hair and tanned skin, only barely old enough to work here by the looks of her. Her blue eyes met Fayt's seductively as she leaned in, studying him carefully. Sighing, Fayt asked, "What do you have?"

"Ohh, lotsa of things," the woman replied casually in a slight southern accent, winking.

"Vodka?"

"Plen'y of it."

"Good."

She turned around and poured Fayt a shot of vodka, which he gulped down instantly.

"So... what's a guy like you doing back here?" The woman asked, batting her eyelashes.

Oh great, Fayt thought.. "Oh, just looking for a good drink."

"Mm-hmm," she replied, not sounding as though she believed him. "We don't owe any money anymore if it's what yer after."

"Like I said, I'm not after money or anything. Just a drink."

Smiling approvingly, she continued to make friendly conversation as Fayt downed his third shot of vodka, "So what's your name?"

"Fayt."

"That's a right pretty name, you know. Mine's Remala," she said, smiling seductively.

"Remala, hmm?"

She put a hand on Fayt's shoulder and replied, "Not many good-looking men like you come 'round here you know…"

Fayt leaned in closer, his breath brushing brown hair out of Remala's face. Green eyes met blue ones. Fayt smirked and whispered, "I'm gay," before grabbing a beer Remala had left on the counter, throwing down a few Fol and stumbling to an empty table. A few other men were staring at him and whispering.

"Man, he sure is lucky."

"Wonder what he said to 'er"

"But man, she is HOT!"

"Yeah, so why'd he walk off!"

"I sure woulda stayed round!"

Fayt turned to glare at the speakers before settling himself into his seat, feet propped up on the table. He took a swig of beer and sighed deeply, staring into the bottle. All alcohol does is bring back that day, Fayt told himself. It wasn't long before his mind was wondering back to the very day when his life fell apart.

It had started out like any other day. Fayt woke up in a cheap hotel room littered with cigarettes and beer cans. Of course, Fayt didn't drink or smoke often. The man lying next to him couldn't say the same. Albel had come home late again, and thrown a pair of bloody gloves and a black, blood-stained tee-shirt on the floor before having a beer and a cigarette and falling next to Fayt onto the tiny bed in the hotel room they had rented, muttering about leaving town the next morning. Fayt had merely nodded, glad to be finally leaving the dreadful place. The town was a small, violent one and Albel had been too busy for Fayt's liking. But they would never leave. Fayt awoke early in the morning to Albel shaking him violently. "Albel? What's going on?" He asked sleepily, looking up into the crimson eyes of his lover. Albel swept his hand out, encompassing the room with one wide gesture. Fayt blinked to clear his emerald eyes and looked around the room. Men in crisp, red suits surrounded the small bed, pointing dull black pistols at Fayt and Albel. Shaking with fear, Fayt glanced to his right, pondering leaping out of the bed and escaping- he trusted Albel to take care of himself. Fayt found only a gun pressed against his head there. He bit his bottom lip to keep from whimpering and embarrassing Albel, though he was sure a few tiny tears had gathered in his eyes, and he blinked to clear them. Albel, however, had not lost his cool, despite another gun nearly touching his own head. In his undamaged right hand, Albel held his own silver gun. Spotting Fayt's plight, Albel swiftly raised his gun to the man who's own gun was resting on the blue haired man's head. The muscular man quickly lifted his gun off Fayt's head, and fired, skillfully shooting Albel's weapon, which flew out of his hand and hit the wall with a loud thud.

"Dammit," Albel muttered, reaching over to rest a hand on Fayt's shoulder. He glared around at the men in their suits, crimson eyes boring into blue, brown, and green ones. "He's done nothing," Albel said evenly. "I'm the killer."

Scoffing, the man next to Fayt replied, "We don't care about who you've killed. None of them were of value to us." After a thoughtful pause, he added, "We could turn you in though." Albel treated the man to a glare that sent shivers down his spine. The man continued to talk anyway in a slightly shaky voice, "But hand over him," here the man waved his gun at Fayt, who cringed, "and we'll leave you to do your killing thing."

Fayt shifted his weight uneasily, looking over at Albel. It was either have Albel betray him to save his own ass, or have Albel die or be turned in. Please betray me and save yourself, Albel, Fayt pleaded mentally. Either way, Fayt would have to do what these men said, and he at least wanted Albel to be ok, or at least alive and…

"No." The word was cold, slipping between Albel's lips like ice.

"ALBEL!" Fayt yelled. Avoiding the hand of the man with the gun next to him which was meant to cover his mouth, Fayt swiftly rolled onto Albel. "I'm not letting them kill you, Albel," he whispered in the dark haired man's ear. He tried to sound brave, but his voice still shook. Fayt had never had a gun pointed at him in his life until that day. Albel had always made sure his work didn't come home with him.

Fayt wrapped his hands in Albel's hair, not allowing the pale man to escape from beneath him. Staring into Albel's eyes, he called out to the men around them, "I'll go with you. Willingly. But only under my conditions." Fayt leaned in a little closer to Albel, but kept talking to the men, "When I get off of him, you won't shoot Albel." Taking a deep breath, Fayt added the final part of his deal, "If I come freely and you try to shoot him anyway, I'm going to shoot myself."

"Fayt! You fucking idiot!" The man beneath him yelled. Fayt could feel Albel's muscles tense up . "Don't you dare shoot yourself, no matter what those bastards do, understand?" Albel whispered more gently, his eyes blazing with passion as he gazed into Fayt's scared green eyes. Fayt just stared back helplessly. He wanted to nod, or agree in some way, but then his threat would be dismissed as an empty one.

Finally, a tall, tan man with thick brown hair and a muscular build that looked as thought it would rip his suit in half any second replied, "Sure thing. Now stand up and come with us." Nodding to his comrades, the brown haired man tucked his gun away in his coat, where he could reach it if he needed to. The others followed his example.

Staring into his true love's eyes, Fayt found his head pulled in by a pair of slender, pale hands, and Albel's soft lips pressed gently against his own in a moment he never wanted to end. Yet seconds later, Fayt was torn off his lover and a handcuffed by a tall Mexican with large hands who was clad in the same red suits as the others.

As soon as he was free, Albel's hand flew to his fallen gun. This time he raised the gun quickly, and before anyone could react, three men were on the floor dying. Six remained unharmed and still armed. Whipping out his gun, a tall, slightly muscular man with dark skin and long, black hair shot at Albel. Albel rolled out of the tiny bed, kicking a short, pale man with ashy blonde hair. The man who had fired first shot again, and Albel dropped to the floor to avoid the bullet, snatching a hidden gun out of the blonde man's shoe.

Fayt's emerald eyes widened as he watched the scene unfold before him like something from an action movie. He was half afraid for his own life and Albel's, yet half in awe. The stories really are true. He does shoot like something from another world.

The dark skinned man shot again, just barely hitting Albel's leg even as he crumpled to the ground, brown eyes devoid of life. As he stared in horror, Fayt found himself being pushed by two of the men, while another one pulled him out of the room. That left an injured Albel with one more man.

A single shot ran through the hallways of the shabby hotel. Fayt's heart was racing. Albel... Oh, Albel, please be alive! Fayt was rushed through hallways and down staircases, out of that bloody hotel, before he knew who's gun had shot that fatal bullet. If it's Albel, he'll come limping out here any minute now and save me. But Albel didn't come limping out of the hotel.

Fayt was then forced into a long, black limo with darkened windows. They drove for what felt like endless hours. Fayt didn't move a muscle or say a word the whole time. He just stared out the window, watching the small town fly by. The small town buildings faded into miles and miles of highway, which soon grew into a city. Fayt was taken to a giant mansion on the outskirts of the city, where he was greeted by Sophia Esteed.

Sophia had been Fayt's childhood friend, until they both attended the same middle school as Albel. Sophia had fancied Fayt and like most girls, she had searched frantically for signs that her love was returned. In her mind, they were to be the cutest couple in school. So, one day when she knew Fayt was skipping science class, she had pranced on down to his locker, intending to ask him out. And there she discovered his sexuality.

Albel had Fayt's wrists pinned to the lockers above him, and was in the process of sliding his tongue into the younger boy's mouth. Fayt didn't appear to be protesting much, either. His hands were on the chains attached to Albel's baggy, black pants and he was using them to pull the taller boy closer to him.

Sophia had dashed off in tears, leaving the two boys to their activities. She had grown to be popular, rich, and snobby, while Fayt and Albel grew to developing a habit of missing classes in favor of kissing in hallways. And as Fayt discovered that day at her mansion, Sophia still fancied him.

That was how Fayt Leingod came to be where he was now. At a bar in the richest city on Earth, sitting alone, and remembering that day three years ago when the man he loved died. And on the day before he was to marry a woman. Fayt certainly did not want to marry any woman, much less a stuck up rich one he hated. But the wedding would happen the next evening, nevertheless. He knew Sophia would protest his being drunk on the night before "the best day of our lives as THE cutest couple in the whole universe!", but Fayt though it fitting he be hung over on the day of what was in his eyes, his nightmare wedding.

The blue haired man frowned slightly and attempted to drag his finger along the circles in the wood on the table, but drunkenness prevented him from doing so. Hearing footsteps next to him, Fayt looked up. A crowd of men stood next to his table, all staring intently at him.

"What do you want?" Fayt asked, slightly annoyed that they would all march over here just to gawk at him like a bunch of idiots.

"Come sit wi' us," the tallest one, a man with tanned skin, greasy black hair and several missing teeth commanded. He appeared to be the unofficial leader of the group. Oh great. I get to go have a pow wow with a bunch of drunkards. Fayt picked up his beer, which was now half empty, and followed the men to their table, which was located in a prime spot between the door and the counter. It appeared as though they often used this table, perhaps every night, for their names were scratched into it multiple times with several incorrect spellings. The leader gestured for Fayt to sit next to him.

Not just any pow wow with any drunkards. I get to pow wow with the lead drunkard of the drunkard group with their very own table. Fayt's sarcastic thoughts were interrupted by a new beer being shoved into his hands by one of the drunkards. He nodded at the leader to begin. The man stuck his hand out and proudly proclaimed, "I be Bill Seaford."

American drunkards, Fayt noted, shaking the man's hand. "Masahiro's the name," he lied casually. He couldn't let these men know he was the man marrying Sophia Esteed.

"Masahiro….." Bill look thoughtful for a brief moment.

"Yeah?"

"What's a man like you doin down here? Ya look too….rich ta be down here wi' us."

So this Bill isn't as stupid as he looks. "Nah. I just look it. I'm no rich man."

"You sho' talk like one."

Fayt nodded, and was thankful he was a good liar. "I went to a school when I was a little kid. They thought me how to talk good, that's all."

Bill accepted this as the truth after some careful thought. "So what's your secret?"

"Secret?"

Bill winked and pointed subtly at Remala. "She was all close ter ya and you jus' walked off. Firs' off, thanks fer backin' off my territory. Secon', how'd ya get 'er so in'rested so fas'?"

Fayt tried to drunkenly piece together an answer, not even pausing to laugh inwardly about Bill thinking Remala was his territory. "Well, I just walk up there, acting all fancy like, and act kinda like I got better things to do than be here, but like I still wants a drink from her. Makes her kinda…surprised, you know, a man coming down here and not bothering to hit on her. So that makes her feel a little bit like she's got something to prove, and needs to win me over."

Bill's face lit up and he signaled for the man to his left to pass Fayt another beer. Free beer for giving advice about women that's total bullshit. Not bad.

"So all I gotta do is act all like I gots better things to do then hit on 'er an' she'll feel like she has to win me over?"

"Yeah, that's about it." Fayt nodded, taking a swing of beer.

"I likes it. You's a good man, Masahiro." Bill paused momentarily. "You come here often?"

"No, I usually try out different bars different nights."

Bill nodded. He paused again to think some more, than added, "Well you're welcome as one of us anytime."

Fayt smiled weakly and stood up, shaking Bill's hand and saying, "I'd better be getting home now." Fayt walked along the creaky floor and pushed open the door, taking in a breath of fresh air. He chucked the now empty beer bottle onto the clod, hard pavement of a nearly abandoned street. Straight men. What a bunch of pigs. No respect for anyone but their own kind. Fayt kicked a rock, his eyes blurring with tears as he mentally quoted Albel, who wasn't particularly fond of straight men getting in his way and asking questions like that.

If Albel were there, he probably would have glared at them with those eyes….those amazing eyes… Fayt's thoughts trailed off as he trudged back down the streets, stumbling slightly every once in a while due to drunkenness. Albel never had problems with being drunk. Always drank…and I could always taste that liquor on his lips and his tongue… A tear coursed down Fayt's cheek. When he was drunk, Fayt's thoughts tended to roam uncontrollably to Albel.

The half drunk man stumbled along, pondering going to another bar for the night rather than returning to that hellhole Sophia called a mansion. Deciding he might as well try to make it back and get some sleep before his wedding, Fayt continued along. He made it to the hill he had been on several hours earlier and collapsed on the lush, green grass, grabbing chunks the cold, damp greenness in his shaking hands.

The wind dashed playfully across Fayt's pale face. Green eyes closed as Fayt breathed in the fresh air with a giant sigh. Calming down, Fayt drifted off into sleep, let his mind take him away to another world where everything was ok. His dreams were unusually pleasant, despite the alcohol and the day's events. And the fact that his dead lover appeared in every single dream Fayt had that night- comforting Fayt, hugging Fayt, kissing Fayt.

So the day ended peacefully for the man, who was entirely oblivious to what that little thing called destiny had planned for him the next day.

Author's Ending Note: I typed this in a pretty bad state of mind (I'm hearing voices), but see the button down there that lets YOU, yes, that's right, YOU, submit a review for me to read and to boost my ego even if this is the worst fanfiction you've ever read? Click it. Maybe I'll even let my super awesome serial killer Albel and his super cute boyfriend who cowers at the sight of a gun answer some of your questions. I'd post the name of the next Chapter here, but I can't exactly call Kat at 1:30 and ask what I should call it.

PS: I came up with the name "Old Memories" for this chapter. If by the time you're reading this, and it's changed to something better, then you begin to understand my bad way with naming things. Maybe Kat could write my summary, too.