Disclaimer: I woke up this morning, and I said to myself, "Oh no! I don't own the rights to Star Ocean!" So then I added a penny to my jar so I could save up. And Albel's views of straight men do not reflect my own.

Date Posted:

Author's Note: I'm back, writing chapter 2! The reviews have been absolutely amazing, especially considering how small the Star Ocean fanbase is (Small and awesome! Hell yeah!). And I DID get Preston (meh sexy and decidedly straight boyfriend) to read the story. You can imagine my amusement. He got bored with Albel and Fayt and stopped though. Speaking of them, Albel and Fayt send you all their love.

Albel: looks up from making out with Fayt We do?

ahem Yes. Also, now would be a great time for me to mention that this fanfiction is based off the My Chemical Romance CD Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge (which I also don't own the rights to, in case you thought I did). If you absolutely hate them or their CD, then just ignore it and read on. Those of you who like the CD may find a few lines from it here and there. Especially in Chapter 3. Now, without further adieu I present to you, Chapter 2!

Chapter 2: Revenge

Fayt felt a sharp pain on his left shoulder. Dammit. It was his wedding day. He snapped open his eyes and found himself staring into a multicolored sky. Must be sunrise, Fayt thought sleepily as he yawned. He sighed and stood up, running a hand through his hair to free it of grass. Looking around, Fayt took in his surroundings.

Fayt was on a hill between Sophia's mansion and the city. The city was bathed in orange light from the rising sun, which reflected off the buildings. Cars were already speeding down the roads and people walked down the streets, sipping at coffee. The whole city seemed to be buzzing with excitement, much of it because of the upcoming wedding. Everyone knew about it, and most of the rich were attending in hopes of gaining favor with Sophia, which was sure to mean one thing: money. The most beautiful sunrise couldn't take the filth of greed away from this place.

The sound of a man coughing politely drew Fayt out of his thoughts. "Mr. Fayt?" Fayt turned to his left, where a man was clad in the usual crimson.

"Yeah?"

"You should recall that you are marrying Miss Esteed this evening." Of course he did. Fayt looked down for a moment, then nodded.

"Then I would suggest that you prepare yourself for such an occasion." The man smirked slightly, as if holding back laughter. As if to share his amusement, be handed Fayt a small mirror and turned back to the mansion, walking off into the distance. Fayt lifted the glass to his face, and indeed the man's amusement became clear.

Blue hair was tangled and flew everywhere as though trying to escape from Fayt's head. Below foggy green eyes were huge bags from lack of sleep. Mud has splattered across his left cheek, reaching out to touch his chin, and dirt was smeared on his forehead. Picking a piece of grass from his lip, Fayt threw the mirror on the ground and watched it shatter. The tiny glass fragments reflected the light from the rising sun, like a thousand tiny sparkles of orange light in the grass.

Spinning around, Fayt walked slowly back to the mansion. It was a large building, sixteen floors high. The whole thing was build out of ancient-looking gray stone, making it look like a medieval castle plopped beside a modern city. At the front of the giant building were two wooden doors, polished to perfection and adorned with gold handles. One handle was in the shape of an 'S' while the other formed a shining 'E', proudly proclaiming the mansion Sophia's.

Fayt wrapped a pale hand around the 'S' handle and yanked open one of the oak doors. Looks like she's even got the doorman busy. He stepped inside his prison and onto a fashionable thick, velvety red carpet. And he was met with total chaos.

Men in their red suits and women in short pleated crimson skirts and tight button-up tops of a similar hue dashed around, redecorating for the evening's event. Curtains, rugs, and table cloths of every color, shape and size were being torn down in favor of white accents. Furniture was covered in smooth, decorative white slips. Sophia was nowhere to be found, so a woman clad in a servants uniform stood in front of an altar that had been placed in the back of the long entrance hallway. She was directing a group of strong-looking men carrying in benches for the thousands of guests.

A group of women passed by Fayt, giggling and gossiping. A tall, blonde woman tapped a short redhead on the shoulder, and pointed at the blue haired man. There was an outburst of whispering among the group, as one by one they turned to look at Fayt then back to giggle with the rest of the group. Fayt watched them, holding back laughter as they giggled and pointed.

However, he was considerably less amused as the tall blonde who has started the giggling and pointing walked up to him, followed by her group and announced that they were going to fix him up. "Fix me up?" Fayt asked sarcastically, wondering if they had gone insane.

"Yup! You're a total mess!" One woman chirped as the blonde grabbed Fayt's arm and dragged him off to his room. Throwing the door open and dragging in a protesting Fayt, the women stepped into his room; many of them still giggling. A wall, slim woman with brown hair to her shoulders and peachy skin ripped off his stained clothes, throwing a bucket of warm soapy water over his head. Fayt spit soap out of his mouth and tried to claw more of the foul suds out of his eyes.

"Awe, he's so cute!" One woman squealed.

"I know!"

"Sophia and him are going to be the greatest couple!"

Fayt attempted to shoot a glare their way that Albel might have been proud of, but ended up wincing as a comb was yanked through his tangled blue hair. Whimpering in protest, Fayt reluctantly allowed them to pluck his eyebrows. Eventually, he became too lost in his own thoughts to complain. Thinking about Albel again. And with no way to drink the pain away, he missed the killer more than he had yesterday, or any of the drunken nights like it.

If only you could see me now Albel, Fayt thought, wincing slightly as someone yanked out another bit of his eyebrow. Maybe if you were here, I wouldn't be afraid. Though he wasn't even sure what to fear, Fayt was scared. For three years he had been molded into what Sophia wanted him to be. This has included everything from various attempts to turn him straight to being forced to wear her stupid clothes everywhere he went. Fayt hadn't tried hard at anything- he was simply waiting for the publicity to wear off and Sophia to get tired of him.

Unfortunately for Fayt, the publicity never really wore off. Any time he was with Sophia, there were cameras shoved in his face. The magazines depicted them as the perfect couple, and Fayt as the cute and romantic guy who had been lucky to find Sophia again after all those years apart. Sophia made sure no one knew how Fayt had really spent his time after high school, "Always running from place to place, sleeping with that serial killer," as she put it. And now here he was, trapped in her white flowery hell.

Fayt snapped out of his thoughts to find himself being shoved into a crisp new suit, that no doubt cost more than he or Albel would ever have seen in their whole lives had he been allowed to live without Sophia.

"You look good."

"Ohmigod, he looks ADORABLE!"

"So perfect for the weeding!"

"Definitely!"

Fayt sighed as he was pushed out of the room and told to wait around until the ceremony, and that he was not to get a single speck of dirt on him. Nodding in obedience, which earned him more delighted squeals, Fayt walked slowly down the hallway, his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked considerably better than before, true, but he felt sick to his stomach. Emerald eyes glared intensely at a vase of flowers as their owner considered running away.

Sophia sure would throw a fit. I bet she would chase after me too. It might even scar her reputation. Fayt smirked in a way that was slightly reminiscent of his dead lover, and dragged his nails across a wall, still deep in thought. I bet she would find a way to make herself still look good though. That's her "talent" like she says. Selling herself, no matter how bad her situation really is. Regardless, there's nowhere to run to. I'm trapped.

Sighing quietly, Fayt silently headed for the kitchen, disappearing from the crowds like a ghost. It was, in fact, Albel who had taught him how to walk to quietly and sneak through crowds. The dead man wanted to make sure Fayt never got in trouble because of his work, and had made sure his lover was well-versed in the art of escape. The blue haired man would never have willingly escaped and left his Albel behind, but he never said so.

Having successfully gotten away from the crowd, Fayt made his way through empty stone hallways now covered in elaborate decorations to celebrate the night's occasion. Yeah, it's gonna be tons of fun, Fayt thought sarcastically. Reaching the kitchen, Fayt threw open the large metal door and heard a yelp as it hit an unsuspecting chef. He ignored the noise and stepped into the chaos that was the constantly drunk chefs Sophia kept penned up in the kitchen and a small bedroom joined to it.

The other chefs laughed at their fallen comrade stood up, bottle of vodka in hand, and rubbed his head. "Fayt, Fayt, yer here!" called out one chef as he tossed spices on a fat steak.

Smiling slightly, Fayt nodded and replied, "It seems it's my wedding day."

A short, tan chef with messy black hair gave Fayt a hard pat on the back, causing him to flinch slightly. "Ohhh, how I pity you."

"Aye, poor Fayt!" called out a few other chefs

"I propose a toast!" yelled the head chef, raising a glass of wine.

"Aye, a toast!" several others agreed

The head chef called out, "To Fayt, but decidedly not to Sophia!"

There was drunken laughter, and a clinking of glasses around the room, followed by loud whoops and cheering. The chefs were Fayt's only real friends anymore. They understood what it was like to be practically owned by Sophia. She had pulled some out of restaurants she favored and others out of nowhere and offered them free food and a place to stay. For various reasons, they had accepted the offer, and were now living in a tiny room in a mansion. They referred to themselves as "Sophia's other prisoners" and somehow found enjoyment in spending their days like this.

The chefs quieted down as Fayt took a seat on a counter in the center of the room. Spotting a beer bottle that was nearly full, Fayt reached a hand out to grab it. Smirking slightly, the head chef informed him, "Miss Esteed tol' us you can't be gettin' all drunk-like before yer wedding, or we're dead."

Fayt scowled deeply. "It's not as though I want to remember the day or anything." He replied darkly, taking a sip of the beer anyway. This caused more laughter and cheering, lead by the fat head chef.

As the chefs calmed down, or at least got as calm as they ever were, Geraldo, the head chef, asked quietly, "So're ya really gunna do this?"

Fayt sat in silence for a moment. Albel…I miss you more than ever. But I know what I have to do. I have nowhere to go if I don't marry Sophia. He nodded. Silence fell over the kitchen like a blanket.

Geraldo spun around and announced, "Then I guess we got a wedding to make happen, dun we?"

"Aw, common, this whole thing's a joke!"

"I can't believe I'm cookin' fer some publicity stunt of a wedding!"

"Yeah!"

Fayt chuckled as the protesting chefs turned back to their work. The younger man washing the dishes had turned to some pots and started banging on them rhythmically with a fork and a knife, like he was a drummer in a rock band. Laughing and taking another gulp of beer, Fayt sat back and watched a giant cake being built beside him. "Does it have to be so big?" He asked, turning his head to the side and licking a bit of icing off the side of the edible masterpiece.

"Faaaaayt, you licked my cake!" The teenage girl placing white gumdrops on the cake replied, fixing the spot.

"I know, it's huge."

Grinning mischievously, she replied, "You don't need a cake, you know."

Spinning around at this, Geraldo matched the girl's smile. "Ingenious!"

"What?" She asked, picking a bit of white icing out of her brown hair.

"We should topple the cake." Geraldo answered evenly.

Beer came flying out of Fayt's nose. "Do WHAT to my wedding cake?"

"Topple it over. Knock it down, Tower of Babel style."

"Did you just compare MY wedding cake to a bible story?"

"Possibly, but that's not the point." Geraldo gestured toward the cake. "You know how we love Sophia. Let's knock down her wedding cake."

"Yes, let's!" Chimed in the brunette.

A group of other chefs gathered around, nodding in agreement. Fayt grinned and nodded. "Sounds like fun."

"That's our Fayt! Rebel! Rebel!"

Fayt clenched his hand into a fist. The man doing dishes gave him a loud drumroll. A pale fist collided hard with the defenseless wedding cake, and icing flew everywhere as the great cake toppled over. There was loud clapping and a bang of pots and pans from the sink.

"Alright! This wedding is really shaping up!"

"Shit, I burned the rolls!"

"That was awesome!"

Once again, excited chefs turned back to their work. The girl next to Fayt dipped her hand into a pile of white icing and licked it from her fingers. Trying to talk around the icing, she casually remarked, "You realize you have no wedding cake."

Sighing, Fayt replied, "A small rebellion, but better than none at all."

Leaning back against the counter, she continued. "I take it you'd rather be back with Albel."

The blue haired man nodded in response. A silence fell over the two. Turning back to the counter, the girl picked up four layers of the cake and stuck them on top of each other, evening out the icing and placing a few gumdrops on the corners. "There we go," she said to herself, seeming satisfied that it was acceptable, but not nearly as grand as the previous cake. Fayt opened his mouth to comment on it, but was interrupted by the metal doors flying open.

A man walked in, dressed in a bright crimson suit. Black hair hung over his eyes as he looked down, but he threw his head up and revealed gray stone-like eyes the scoured the room. "The hell's going on in here? We can hear you bastards yelling and screaming from the fourth fucking floor. Sophia's pretty damn pissed, says the guests are starting to arrive you're ruining the pre-wedding gathering."

Pre-wedding gathering? Do they need to party 2 hours before we get up there? Fayt kicked a potato across the floor, watching the brown lump roll unevenly and hit a wall, anything to avoid the newcomer's eyes. Fayt looked up from the floor carefully, only to find those intense gray eyes staring at him. "Are you the groom?" The man asked softly, reaching out a hand to stroke Fayt's chin. The blue haired man heard the girl who made the cake (the chefs called her Ginger) giggling drunkenly. Green eyes met gray like an ocean wave colliding with a rock. Fayt lost himself in the other man's gaze, forgetting how to talk. Something about him…something very much much like me.

"Yes. I am," Fayt answered as cutely as possible, at least able to remember his role as the uke as the ability to speak came rushing back to him.

"It's a shame you aren't more cooperative. She doesn't have to marry you." The man's gray eyes traveled up and down Fayt and he leaned in so his hot breath blew gently over Fayt's ear as he whispered "But it would be such a waste if she didn't. You know," he smirked slightly, "You can stay in my room if the two of you ever have a little fight." Fayt breathed heavily. There was definitely something strange about this man. Through his very essence he seemed to understand Fayt. Even if he worked for Sophia.

"I'm marrying Sophia," Fayt protested weakly, as the man leaned in closer to him. He wrapped his hands around the back of Fayt's head and pushed his lips onto Fayt's. Closing his gray eyes, the man forcefully pried Fayt's lips apart with his tongue, swiftly taking control. Albel was a better kisser…Fayt sighed against the man's lips, and felt a hand run through his hair. Pulling back to breathe, the taller man whispered, "My name's Doem."

"Doem…" Fayt test out the name, whispering. Doem smiled and nodded.

"And you must be Fayt. Sophia's next victim." Gray eyes blazed with anger and he spit on the ground. Fayt nodded carefully.

"You…..work for her?" The blue haired man asked nervously.

"Unfortunately, yes. But I think I can explain." Doem wrapped an arm around Fayt's waist and as the kitchen began to return to normal, the two men wandered off around the mansion, while Doem told his story.

"I suppose it begins back when I was younger. 16, about. That's when I met Rehm. He was a quiet sort. He had this long brown hair, so soft. And the most amazing blue eyes…..We met in high school. I was a writer. Anyway, I wrote a piece about Albel."

Fayt flinched at the sound of the name, but let Doem continue.

"I explained all about the two of you, too. I told how Albel was a serial killer, but he fell in love, too. I knew a lot about the two of you….you might be surprised. Sophia didn't want the world to know that you were with Albel. She still wanted you for herself. So she threatened me. I didn't take her seriously, and I wasn't going to give up on the truth about him. It was foolish of me. She killed Rehm, and told me I wasn't to do anything with that writing, or I was next."

Fayt bit his lip. All that because of me and Albel… As if sensing Fayt's guilt, Doem shook his head. "It wasn't your fault. I wanted to tell the truth, to prove a point. Sophia gave me the same thing she did you. Told me we were all stupid fags and killed the man I loved. Worst of all, I did what she wanted."

Running his finger over the hem of Doem's jacket, Fayt remarked, "Sometimes we're made by the sharpest things they say."

Doem nodded in understanding. Albel was shaped by all the bad things. And it made him violent; got him killed.

"So how did you end up working for her?" The blue haired man asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

"I need my revenge. We need our revenge. If we let that bitch live, this is going to happen again and again to a thousand other men. One homophobe shouldn't stop a whole city from being in love……And," Gray eyes looked straight into green, "Don't you want to avenge him?" He understands. The two stopped by a doorframe and kissed softly, back into the room behind Fayt.

"I want revenge," Fayt said evenly. The two men smiled slowly at the same time, then locked lips again, only to be interrupted by a loud footstep at the door.

Another man in a crimson suit walked in slowly; black boots echoing against the floor to fill the otherwise heavy silence. He had blonde hair that hung down to his ear lobes in layers, and pale green eyes that were cold as ice, offset by tanned skin.

"Doem! The hell's going on in here?" The blonde man looked from his co-worker to Fayt. "Oh. I see. Well then." The man pulled out a gun. "Sophia doesn't like traitors."

Doemlaughed loudly. "Shoot me. Go for it. We both know I'm not here to kiss that bitch's ass. I just want revenge, then I'm out."

Doem continued, his voice burning with hatred as he yelled, "Revenge. Sweet revenge. That bitch you're marrying had Rehm killed. He was the only man I ever loved. I'm not letting her get away with this. Not without at least a little disturbance of her wedding."

Fayt smiled again. Doem was serious about this.

"God dammit, Doem! Get a grip on yourself!"

"No! Get out of my revenge, you bastard!"

There was a loud gunshot. Doem smiled slightly as he fell down, blood pouring from his chest like a red river. "Fayt….You know what to do…Give 'em hell, kid…." he whispered, and closed his eyes, giving in to eternal sleep. Fayt kneeled down next to his dead body, not shedding a single tear. Just staring at his lifeless face. He was like an angel, sent just to tell me what I have to do, then taken away again.

The man in the doorway coolly sheathed his gun inside his jacket. "The man's dead. We can keep quiet about this, I trust?"

Fayt swallowed hard. He knew…he knew exactly what I went through. I could tell from the moment I saw him we both had a gaping hole in our souls, an empty black void Sophia ripped open A hole that will eventually swallow both of us.

"You bastard," Fayt breathed out. "I have no choice, do I! I have to bend to your will, to Sophia's will, I have to do everything you all say."

"Good," the man said too cheerfully, "You're disgusting. You deserve it."

The blonde man stepped forward and scooped up the body. He walked out of the tiny room, leaving it to the silence it had enjoyed before the murder, but for the still echoing dripping of blood from the lifeless man he held in his arms. Fayt glared long and hard at the puddle of red on the floor, as thought willing it to disappear and make everything ok.

Grabbing a sharp rock from the corner of the room, Fayt carved on the spot where Doem had died a single word- Revenge. Leaving that to serve as a grave, Fayt walked slowly out of the room, the pounding of his feet echoing in the silence he left behind. Albel. We never wanted it to be this way.

The lonely blue haired man slowly sat down, his back against the cold stone wall of an empty hallway. Silence threatened to cave in on him. "Albel." He said aloud, clear voice cutting through the air. "I want you back. Doem showed me what I have to do. I have to avenge him, Rehm, and mostly you. Are you going to get me killed? I'd still miss you. Even if I were dying because of a foolish attempt to avenge you. I mean that more than words can say. I don't even know if you can hear these words. Maybe you're listening to these words from the seventh circle of hell, where you're drowning in a river of the blood of those you killed. Or maybe…." Fayt gulped. "Maybe you can't hear me at all." Silence fell again.

"The silence before the storm," Fayt whispered to himself

"Then let the storm begin." Sophia's cold voice cut across the silence as she walked slowly into the hallway, still dressed in a pair of jeans and a light pink designer sweater. Fayt looked up, meeting her soft green eyes with his burning, angry ones of a deeper color. Her voice was soft and commanding. "The wedding is in an hour."

"One more hour…" A cold voice muttered from the floor above them, unaware of the drama unfolding beneath him. Black hair hung low over the eyes of the speaker. He fumbled with a gun inside of his long black trench coat, checking to be sure it was loaded. In one hour, there would be blood. Crimson eyes sparkled at the thought. Blood, and death.

Author's Note: Ahh, I did it! I killed someone! Um, the almighty editor of fanfiction aka my sister thinks that the part with Doem is kind of random and looks like a space filler…..he's sort there to guide Fayt, like he says, like an angel. Um, review lots! Yes, yes, review. Reviews and Coca Cola are really the driving forces behind this. Like, your review can just say "Cool." Or "Albel is hot." Or "Where's the lemon, you bitch?" For all I care. Just say something (something besides a flame, preferably)