A/N: Man, I'm just bullshitting my way through this thing. Next chapter of Deepest Blue is coming, bitches.
Gotta keep truckin'.
Amarant stares blankly at the TV screen, watching the Daily Show with only the most vague interest. The cigarette smoke hangs in the air and mingles with the smell of old food and damp towels, and he leans his back against the foot of his bed, watching the television.
He can hear Susan downstairs, cackling like an old hen, and his dad laughing deeply. They're probably talking about the wedding. He feels his stomach knot up and takes a long drag from his smoke, closing his eyes.
What a great way to spend a Sunday night.
The live audience laughs and Susan laughs too.
He just makes it to his bathroom before throwing up.
Zidane and Garnet sit, side by side, at the bus stop, watching the rain come down around them.
"Well, I guess we could've picked up an umbrella at the dollar store," Zidane drawls, putting an arm around Garnet, "But overall, I think this went pretty good."
"I'm worried about Steiner. What if father finds out I ran away again?"
The boy shrugs, looking unworried. "Who cares? He's gotta let you go someday, right? Why not now?"
They look out at the people hurrying past, and soon the bus arrives. It stops and opens its doors, and Zidane stands. "What are you doing?" Garnet asks, blinking.
He holds out a hand. "I was wondering if you wanted to go see a movie. I mean, we've already evaded the old man this long, why not try for a real date for once?"
She looks around, blushing. "I don't know, Zidane..."
"Miss Garnet!"
The two teens look over to see Steiner at the end of the block, running towards them.
"C'mon, Dagger!" Zidane shouts, and the girl races up the steps behind the boy. The doors shut and the bus pulls away just as Steiner reaches the stop. Zidane laughs, "Good! Lost him, for sure. Now, babe, what movie should we see?"
"Zidane, I feel bad," Garnet mumbles, leaning against him as he holds onto the rail over their heads. "He's just doing his job."
"He shouldn't let his job interfere with what makes you happy. Would you like to see a movie, honestly? If not, I can pull the chord and we can go back."
The girl looks up at Zidane, frowning. The boy is so strange – one minute he eggs you on, attempting to get you to do something you might regret; but the next, he's telling you your options are open and he's okay with them all. She's never met anyone like him – everyone she's known until Zidane has either been much older, a public official, or too wrapped up in school to actually care about anything else.
"...I would," she confesses, "But I feel bad for leaving him there."
"Oh, don't worry about him. He's probably going to catch the next bus and come after us. I'll have you home by curfew, don't worry. Then, you can call him and tell him you're home, and your dad won't even know he lost you."
Garnet looks at Zidane, who smiles at her, and then smiles herself. "Alright, then. So long as it isn't one of those action movies you like so much." She makes a face, "I like plot."
"But then you have to think!" Zidane exclaims, grinning, "And movies are meant to be fun, not for brain damage." At the girl's look, he concedes, "Alright, alright. We'll go see something intellectual."
"Thank you, Zidane."
He kisses her, "Hey, anything for you."
Amarant groans and holds his stomach, sitting back against the cool tiles of his bathroom wall, scrubbing his mouth out with his toothbrush. He feels sick, but that was a one time thing – he isn't about to throw up again, just because of some bitch's voice.
He sighs and looks at the ceiling, brushing idly. The way the silver haired man – Kuja, wasn't it? – the way he had admired his mother's wedding dress made him feel conflicted. On one hand, his mother's work was finally being appreciated – what she hadn't done for anyone but herself was going to get recognition from people. But it was his mother. Selling her dress was like selling her, and he can't figure as to why his father would want to do that at all. He hadn't known the dress was in there – he thought his father had some damned respect.
Susan laughs.
Guess he doesn't.
There's a knock at the door of the garage, and Amarant sighs, getting up and heading down the hall. He knows exactly who it is.
"Lani," he mumbles around his toothbrush. The brown-haired girl grins up at him, wearing a low cut black tank top and a deep purple skirt. Behind her, however, is Kuja. "What do you two want?" he asks, warily – he doesn't like that a stranger knows where he lives. Not when that stranger is a guy who looks so much like a girl that he could fool anyone, even in a tight purple turtleneck and tight leather pants.
"We're kidnapping you," she says easily, "Go put something better on."
"Better...?" He pulls out his toothbrush and looks at his sweat pants and wife-beater. "What are you talking about?"
"For God's sake," Lani exclaims, "Come on. Go get something nice on, we're going to Treno and I demand nothing short of perfection from you!"
"Goddamn it, Lani, I don't go clubbing. And you're not even twenty-one."
Kuja puts a finger to his lips. "Shh," he whispers loudly, "It's our little secret."
"God, like you didn't have a fake ID for half of high school."
There's the sound of movement down the hall, and Amarant frowns, looking inside. "Look," he says, "Go and have your clubbing adventure. I don't do clubs, and you should go before dad comes."
"Oh, who cares about that old geezer," Lani drawls, "You're twenty-three, goddamn it, you should start taking control!"
"I'm not getting into this," the redhead growls, closing the door. He nearly slams it shut on Kuja's hand before the other man applies force, pushing the door back open with relative ease.
"I'm sorry," Kuja apologizes, "I asked Lani to invite you. I... I don't know. I just wanted you to come. Are you sure you can't? I know you probably have prior engagements..."
Amarant feels his stomach churn, and looks back down the hall. He sighs, and leans against the doorframe, looking at Kuja's pleading expression. "I don't club."
"That's okay," the other insists, "They have good liquor."
"Please?" Lani asks from behind the half-closed door.
"...Fine. C'min, just don't let dad hear you. Fuck knows I don't need him being an asshole around me tonight." He lets the two in and Lani immediately heads for his room – Kuja follows easily and Amarant trails behind, stopping in the bathroom to rinse his mouth.
Kuja is pillaging his closet when he comes in, Lani digging around under his mattress.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asks the girl, who looks up at him with obviously fake innocence.
"I was just looking around for... um, I don't know. I just was looking."
"Goddamn it, woman, get the fuck out from under there," he growls, and she pulls away, sitting on the bed and pouting.
"Well, at least I know now what a horrible life I'd leave without any taste," Kuja drawls, digging through the pile of clothes. Amarant doesn't believe in hangers.
"If all you're going to do is insult my fashion sense, then you can leave."
Kuja looks aghast. "Why, I'd never do that! I also would like to make fun of your organizational skills and make assumptions as to what Lani was looking for under your bed." He grins, and pulls out a pair of jeans from the bottom of the pile. "Other than a bit of wrinkling, I think these would do nicely. Lani, does he have any good shirts worth wearing?"
Lani shrugs, "Hey, the guy never goes anywhere he can't get into with sweatpants. I can't say he has much taste, Mr. I'm-The-Greatest-Fashionista-Ever."
"Fashonista?" Kuja asks, raising an eyebrow, "That's a new one. Anyways, put this on, you unorganized, probably perverted young man."
Amarant looks at the other male as he hands him the jeans and a black wifebeater, raising an eyebrow. He didn't even know he still had these jeans – they're a size smaller than he likes and have a few well placed rips on the legs.
"Well?" Kuja insists, "Time is money!"
The redhead shrugs and pulls his shirt off, replacing it with it's black counterpart. With a sigh, he looks at the two, "You're not going to leave so I can change, are you?" he asks.
The two look at each other, and then sit on the bed together, smiling in fakely innocent ways.
"...You do realize I don't wear underwear if I can help it."
He swears their grins get bigger.
Amarant frowns as the two college students pull him out of the house. It's a miracle that his father hasn't heard them – not that he gives a shit what his father has to say but still. He doesn't want to know what he might say about Kuja, and he doesn't want Kuja to know either. It's not that he actually gives a shit about the other male – he just doesn't want anyone to talk to his father. Especially tonight. Not when his stomach still feels upset, not when he's on the fence, stuck between amused and disgusted.
"You have your keys, right, Ama'?"
He looks at Lani, eyebrow raised. "How'd you two get here?"
"We took the bus," Kuja drawls, "We live too close to campus and have too little money to get an actual car."
"Hell," Amarant mutters, digging out the keys he had tossed in his pocket as an afterthought, "I don't know if you both can even fit, it's not like it's clean or anything-"
"I've squeezed into smaller places," the male insists, "Come on."
So Amarant follows Kuja, and Lani follows Amarant. They manage to squeeze Kuja into the back seat behind Lani, and Amarant sighs, getting in and turning the truck on. They pull out of the driveway and then Amarant looks at the guy in back with a raised eyebrow, "Where, exactly, are we kidnapping myself to?"
"Oh, I don't know. How does Treno sound?"
"Sounds good to me!" Lani responds, not allowing Amarant to defend himself. "You know how to get there, don't you?"
"Just follow the sounds of drunken techno," the redhead grumbles, idly flipping the radio from station to station – all talk shows but anything's better than silence.
Kuja procures Amarant's CD case and flips through it. He looks interested and Amarant doesn't know why.
"You listen to all of this?" the silver-haired male asks, blinking.
"Yeah," he responds, "Why would I buy it, otherwise?"
"But... It's so weird. Gypsy Kings, then Nirvana, Autumn to Ashes beside – who's this, Captain Jack? Celtic and rap, metal and garage."
"So?" He rolls his eyes, "What, are you unfamiliar with people who listen to things other than techno and AFI?"
Kuja laughs, "AFI? Do I look like an angsty teenager? I listen to Vivaldi."
"Vivaldi... I've got him downloaded. Four Seasons, remixes, some string compositions." Amarant shrugs, "It works well with the horses."
Lani grins, "Are you still doing part time at the ranch?"
The redhead grins, "What, like I'd give that up? It's the only thing worth doing anymore."
"Ranch?"
The two share a look and then Lani turns in her seat, looking at the confused Kuja. "Amarant works on a ranch in the desert. What is it, every other week or something?" Amarant nods an affirmative. "He takes care of the horses that stay there – they're all either brought in from out of state or recently tamed. It's neat, he's a total animal person."
"How come that doesn't surprise me?" Kuja asks, looking vaguely surprised nonetheless.
"Hey, Ama', can I come with you next time you go up?" Lani asks, suddenly. Amarant raises an eyebrow.
"You sure you can? After all, you got all that fancy learnin' to do, with them books and stuff." He grins, "You can't hang out with uneducated folk like me."
"You're crazy," the girl laughs, "I can skip a few days. Besides, it's not like we're doing anything interesting... I'm on scenery duty, can you imagine that?"
"That's because Professor Cid wants you closer to him," Kuja drawls, "After all, you're a beautiful, young, barely-legal girl."
"And he's what, fifty-seven? I don't think so. I don't need a scenery badge that bad."
Amarant rolls his eyes, "Cute, first you talk about college, which I can't go to, and then you make references to the Boy Scouts, which I got kicked out of. Way to ostracize me, woman."
"Oh, you know you love being the outcast."
The redhead glances into the rearview mirror and sees Kuja looking at him with the strangest expression on his face.
"What?" he asks, suddenly feeling self-conscious. He almost forgot about the other male – for a second he thought he and Lani had been alone.
"Nothing," the other waves a hand, "I just find you... interesting."
"Uh oh," Lani exclaims, "Watch out, next thing you know he's going to be sending you dead roses and love sonnets."
Amarant would laugh, but he doesn't know if Lani's joking.
Zidane puts an arm around Garnet's shoulders as they leave the movie theatre. "So, how did you like it?" he asks, sneaking a glance at the girl. She's smiling – that's good. He likes her when she smiles, and she doesn't do it nearly enough.
"It was interesting. Sometimes I wonder how people come up with things like that..."
"Too bad it didn't have more fighting in it. Like Fight Club. You liked that one, didn't you?"
Garnet flushes, and then giggles, "Yes, Zidane, I liked that movie. But I wanted less fighting!"
"Well, when Hollywood decides to give us the proper ratio of fighting to plot, we'll have to definitely go see it." He sighs, "Do you want to get something to eat?"
She looks at her watch and frowns. "I'm going to be late home if we take too long..."
Zidane shrugs, smirking. She worries too much, too. Always worried about her family or her schoolwork or her position in the school government – he wonders why she likes him. He's so much more relaxed... he wonders why he surrounds himself with so many type A personalities.
"Don't worry about it, Dagger! I told you you'll get home on time, and you..."
He trails off.
At the end of the block, Steiner is standing with his arms crossed, next to a black jaguar. Garnet must see him too, because she suddenly stops, and bites her lip.
The bodyguard comes towards them fast, and they hold their ground – the date's over, time to let everything go.
"Hey, old man," Zidane drawls once the older man gets close enough.
Steiner punches him in the jaw, sending him reeling.
"Steiner!" Garnet exclaims as Zidane hits the ground with a thud, eyes wide. He can feel blood in his mouth.
"Get in the car," the bodyguard growls. She hesitates, looking to Zidane, and he grabs her wrist, eyes narrowed. "Get. In. The. Car."
She pulls away and, with one last look to her boyfriend, goes straight to the car and gets into the passenger's seat. Steiner reaches down with one hand and grabs Zidane by the collar of his Nirvana shirt, dragging him up to his face.
"Stay away from Miss Garnet, you little bastard," he snarls, pushing the teenager away and stalking to the car. Zidane moves to follow but then stops, turning and spitting blood out of his mouth. The car revs to life and peels off, shooting down the street. The blonde wants to think he saw Garnet looking at him, but he knows better.
"Well, fuck," he growls, and spits again.
The walk back to the resale shop is long and boring – people look at him and he wonders if he's more messed up than he thinks.
The shop is dark and locked, but he has a key. He goes in and grabs his backpack and his skateboard, locking back up and taking off downhill, dodging pedestrians with only marginal interest in their whereabouts.
He gets to the apartment complex and carries his skateboard up the three flights of stairs – the elevator hasn't worked since before he and Kuja moved in – and leans against the door to their apartment, 145B.
"Kuja," he calls, thunking his head against the door, "Open up."
No answer.
"Kuja."
He must be out with Lani. Zidane growls and searches under the welcome mat – no key. "Fuck!"
He slides to the ground and sits against the door, looking at 144B, across the hall. "Damn it."
His backpack is open and he realizes that he left his math book at the shop. Not that he was planning on doing it, but still...
He reaches in and pulls out a paperclip – a few deft twists and he jams it into the lock, twisting it and hearing the pop as the door unlocks. He gets up and goes inside, slamming the door.
His face isn't too bad off – he has a nasty bruise where the old man punched him and one tooth in the very back is loose, but no big deal, he had to get it pulled eventually.
He lays down in bed and closes his eyes, falling into sleep with Garnet's smile in his mind.
Remember, quantity, not quality.