Chapter 5

The shock on the brunette males face was strange to behold. Having lived behind a mask of ice, of showing no emotions, Squall was plainly open to read, for once in his life, he wasn't buried beneath layers of indifference, an unflinching gaze and silence. No, now he was painfully open, and there was nothing he could do about it.

In the past, people had called him names; "Leonheartless", "Ice Princess", "Shiva's bitch." But he had also been given other names. He had never realised that he was known not as the Ice Princess, but as having the soul of a lion, and a heart most men could only dream of having. Few realised the extent he had gone through to become as they saw him; few realised what they did to him, and less even cared. Not even Seifer.

Seifer.

Now he was here, stood opposite Squall some five feet away, very much alive and very much smirking at him. His eyes were too wide, blind to see that the smirk was merely a façade to hide the concern and sorrow he felt for the younger man, the disappointment and pity. He could see so much of the other male, all he couldn't see was the problem. He'd always known that Squall had problems, fuck, who wouldn't after going through what he did. But he didn't know what the problem was. Squall had a heck of a lot more than Seifer did; he'd had friends, a place to stay. He was praised for saving the world, yet Seifer was punished for trying to take over the world; not even of his own volition.

Watching the brunette who looked like a deer in headlights, they stared at each other for a moment, before Seifer took a step forwards, and another, and Squall flinched away before the blonde could touch him. Raising an eyebrow at the smaller man, Seifer remained where he was, waiting for a response from Squall. But there wasn't one, not the sort he had been expecting anyway. Squall simply dropped his head down onto his collarbone and turned away, turned his back on the man who used to be his rival.

"I must be really fucked up." He said softly, more to himself than the one he'd turned away from. A dry, broken chuckle catches in his throat with a sob, but he straightened, his back still to Seifer. "…Desperate enough to dream you back…" He mumbled to himself, starting to walk away from where Seifer stood, watching, towards the nightclub he went to almost every night now.

Despite his lack of proper work ethic lately, the Commander still had a lot of money to his name, even if it was slipping away at places like this. He still worked, sometimes, and was still on the rolls as Seed and Commander, so he could afford all he needed and the expenses for drinks and such to his nightly 'past times.'

Contrary to the retreating male's belief however, Seifer wasn't letting Squall go that easily, no, he hadn't come all the way out here just to be ignored and left. Trailing after him, he neared the leather-clad man's back, only to be confronted before contact yet again.

Squall twirled around to face him, eyes glaring angrily. "Why are you haunting me?" He half yelled at the blonde, who recoiled in shock. He hadn't expected to be yelled at when Squall was only a few feet away from him, but he knew that he shouldn't really be surprised, a lot had changed and Squall was not the man he'd known before, he was broken down, on the blade's edge.

"I'm not haunting you Squall. I'm here. I'm real. You're coming back with me."

"Like hell I am." He spat back, glaring at the man. "You're not real. Get lost." He couldn't allow himself to believe that Seifer was really here, couldn't let him stay. He knew who he was pushing away; the last one. The final person to try and save him. The man he had killed.

Odd, how, before death, the last person one supposedly sees is the person closest to them. The last person to give up hope or try desperately to save him was the one person who could, yet in the end, things always turned out wrong. People always got hurt, and on the brink of death and insanity, it would be Squall's corpse that would remind the living of how no saviour is invincible, and no boy should be sent to Hell whether he could make it through or not. Call the world greedy, because even after he had paid his debt by saving the world, more was asked of him. More was demanded, wanted and there was nothing he could do that would be enough for the hands that stole everything from him.

How terrible life could be.

How terrible people could be for not letting his life go. For not letting him die. For not just leaving him alone, like he'd always wanted.

Stepping into the nightclub of a somewhat dark looking nature, Squall abandoned the blonde to the crowds behind him and melted into the bodies of sweat and lust that overwhelmed any who stepped through the doors.

For Seifer, it was a sudden onslaught of sensations. The strong smell of sweat, sex and drugs blasted through his nostrils unfiltered, the pulsing beat of the music shook through him, making his body twinge and move among all the others, even if he didn't wish it. The bass was so strong that his muscles stretched and loosened each time, he was dancing and he didn't want to. He had already lost the brunette, despite his height and stature, there were so many people in the room, all pressed up tight.

He kept his mind on the unstable commander and surged forwards, delving between the dancers and towards the bar. He didn't know how long it would take, but Squall was sure to turn up there at some point. Already, the blonde didn't like the place, it may be great for someone in need of an escape and a good time, but he wasn't in the mood, certainly not now.

It didn't take long for him to spot the young man in the crowds, he was in a situation that Seifer would never have believed unless he saw it with his own eyes. Squall was pressed against a wall, another young man pinning him there, kissing him forcefully and rubbing his crotch hard against the commander's. And Squall wasn't resisting, he was kissing back, letting the man raise his hands above his head and pin them there, letting him unzip the leather pants he wore and delve a hand into the man's once sacred lower regions, now the only part of his body that could bring him some sort of pleasure, whatever the way he had to achieve that pleasure.

Making his way forcefully over, Seifer seemed out of place, in an outfit that was neither complete leather, silk or net, nothing at all suiting, and not at all revealing. Several people had already tried to rectify that, but had found it in their better interests not to. When he finally reached the man who was rather harshly sexually affecting the brunette, Seifer gave a strong yank to the back of the guy's shirt, turned and threw him into the crowd. Squall looked surprised and then angry, trying to push the blonde away from him, or go through him or something.

But Seifer wasn't having it. He grabbed the thin wrists of the male, feeling the slight raise of fresh cuts beneath his hands. Squall just grit his teeth; he would have used a cure on them had he not forgotten, but Seifer's grip didn't ease up. As much as he didn't want to cause more pain to the man, he wasn't about to let him slip away again either.

Pulling the leather clad male from through the crushing crowd while he tugged and tried to twist out of his grip was difficult, but he was able to cope with difficult, as long as it got the other man safe.

His grip was loosening at the constant writhing of the reluctant male, and Seifer was forced to give the younger male a harsh push outside, where he stumbled and fell, barely managing to stay up at all.

"We're leaving now Squall. I'm taking you back to Garden now." He informed the russet haired male, who lay half propped up on the floor, looking back at the blonde man with wide and resentful eyes.

"N-no. Leave me alone." The brunette tried to scrabble backwards, but Seifer grabbed his wrist again, stopping him. If someone had been watching them, they would have thought that Seifer was attacking him, but there was intense concern in his eyes for the man on the floor, who appeared near tears. He really was falling apart at the seams.

"Squall." He said the man's name, drawing his attention back from where he had drifted off a little. "Come on, come here, I'm taking you back." His grip loosened on the man's wrist and yet Squall didn't pull away, he struggled back to his feet and kept his head down. "S'pose it won't matter…you're not really here…you can't be…" Squall really did struggle to accept what seemed impossible sometimes.

Saying nothing about his believed non existence, Seifer took the slim and surprisingly soft hand in his and began to lead him back towards Balamb Garden. Squall came willingly albeit a little slowly, and Seifer encouraged the male to keep moving, sliding an arm around his waist to coax him closer. The commander relented, a little uncertain of his old rival's touch lest it all be a strange delusion and he was in fact passed out in a ditch somewhere. Making sure that Squall was looking okay, Seifer let his hands wander to the boy's crotch where he zipped up his pants, apparently Squall had forgotten that he was unzipped after being thrown out of the club.

The brunette gave him a slightly surprised look, but was just too shattered to care all that much, figuring he must be high off his head to be imagining something so vivid. He'd probably passed out in a gutter somewhere; his mind concluded. I hope I'm not naked in the sewer system again… And that was all it really was to him, just another mindless delusion that, in truth, he had no will to escape from. His delusions were all he had left.

Seifer led the frail commander down the long road that led to Balamb Garden, his concerned gaze kept on the pale face of the man- no boy- who had suffered so badly that he could only make it worse in order to feel at all better. That was a type of darkness Seifer had managed to avoid, but for someone as emotionally fragile as Squall, escaping it would be hard, especially when nobody else had noticed or realised how delicate he was inside. Despite it all, his façade was too tightly knit and only he had been able to see through at the boy beneath, see that his emotions weren't nonexistent, merely locked away for his own safety. How could nobody else have seen?

Seifer didn't know whether to be bitterly depressed that his younger companion vehemently protested his existence, or just amused about the whole thing. He was torn between the two, but given the boy's mental state of the last short while, there was little doubt in his mind that Squall had thought about his 'death' continuously for a long time, and like the fool he was, he felt responsible. Squall felt responsible for everyone, but he was barely a man. He deserved better. At least now someone seemed to have made the best decision so far and hauled his blonde ass over to Garden to finally save the suffering angel who earned his way to Heaven, but was given Hell instead.

By the time they arrived in front of the large curving structure, Squall was barely conscious, hardly holding himself up at all and in a state of delirium. Seifer couldn't tell if it was just the stress and supposed insanity for seeing Seifer, or if he'd taken something whilst he was at the club. The brunet's head whipped around disjointedly, disoriented and feverish. Perhaps Squall's friends should have called him in long before their beloved hero fell into a state such as this, when alcohol and whoring weren't the only thing making him feel the least bit better.

The halls were clear of people, fortunately, and as he carried -yes, he had to carry the broken man now- the limp and miserable man to his room, Squall did nothing to protest, just stared around at the bright walls and felt the world move around him; he'd long since tried to do anything, make sense of it, come to conclusions. He barely had enough control to keep the pain inside any more.