Ugh, after forever, I finally got this chapter out! Sorry for the long wait and everything!

Enjoy!

Broken Rituals: Rejections

A lazy grin that Squall knew was there even without seeing it.

"You in another one of your funks, Squally-boy?"

An arm that was warm, and comfortable, but because Squall didn't know how to take it, preferred to scoot away.

"Aw, c'mon, you're going to break my heart that way, darlin'."

A sigh, coming from Squall's own lips, and around them, the wind blew his hair into his face, tickling his nose.

Silence, and then the toes of two cowboy boots appeared in the top of his vision, currently focused on his own dark leather shoes. Squall sighed.

"Irvine… not right now, I just want some time alone."

Some more silence, and the boots moved a little closer, and Squall started as something landed on his head, and the boots disappeared from his vision, replaced by some obscuring object.

"Alright, but I'm coming back to get my hat in an hour."

Once he was gone, Squall took the hat off, fingering it gently and placing his face in the hollow. He could smell Irvine's hair.

And he did come back, when the sun was beginning an arc towards the horizon, and there was a faint tint of gold on the land spread out below him. He could see all of Balamb from the balcony.

"Still here, hm? And still in a funk."

Squall said nothing, quickly removing his hand from the rim of the hat, which he had been stroking comfortingly.

In a way, he was expecting it, but it was still surprising when the cowboy sniper suddenly decided to plop down beside him, unabashedly laying his head on Squall's shoulder. Squall still said nothing. The breeze blew around them again, cool and whispering.

"Nice view, huh?"

Squall nodded, his chin rubbing against Irvine's forehead and stray locks of golden red hair. Fresh air wafted into his mouth as he opened it.

"What are you doing here?"

"Eh, not much. Felt like watching the scenery too. You can continue this little funk of yours with some company, right? Commander Leonhart can do just about anything he sets his mind to."

The laid-back voice was rumbling and relaxing. It reminded him of a scratchy record, background noise that was missed when it was stopped, but not always appreciated while playing. He hadn't particularly liked Irvine's last comment.

He mulled over the reasons for a long time. He wasn't sure he liked being the Commander. So many things in his hands, so many lives, and he felt so inadequate. These thoughts were like broken records. He wanted to throw them away, once and for all.

"Here's your hat," he half hoped Irvine wouldn't take it, even as he held it out. It meant he'd leave, and the comfortable weight made him feel nostalgic for the comfort he'd always wanted, but rarely sought, and hence, rarely got.

A thoughtful hum.

"Nah, keep it on. Looks cute. I'll take it back tomorrow."

And he did come back the next morning, this time with a kiss on the cheek and an easy, understanding smile that Squall wouldn't understand until years later.

Leon sat at the edge of his bed for a long tome, staring miserably at the floor where his shoes lay haphazardly—So similar to the ones he'd used to wear back then—and reluctantly allowed his gaze to travel to the cowboy hat that hung on the wall. Not Irvine's, as that one had been on the cowboy's head ―Always wore it, except when he'd playfully put it on Squall― when their world had been swallowed by the Heartless, along with him and everyone else Leon treasured. But he had bought it at the bidding of the overwhelming nostalgia he'd felt when his eyes had lighted on it.

He wondered if normal people cried. He couldn't ―wouldn't, even if Irvine had told him he could― and only felt a deep emptiness, like everything around him was two-dimensional, and he couldn't think of tomorrow, because it was all shrouded in darkness anyway. And guilt, he felt a lot of that too. He hadn't thought of Irvine in a long time ―You're killing me here, darlin', talk to us, Squall― mostly because it hurt, it was easier to think of Seifer, because he could replace the pain with anger in his case, but with Irvine, it was just an empty hole where the loss had occurred. But lately it was because his thoughts had been occupied with someone else and the sudden guilt made him lower his head in shame and denial, his eyes shut tight ―You'll be alright, Squall, you always are, just smile once in a while.

I'm here for you, after all.

He shut the voice out and took the hat off its hook, gripping it for a moment before placing it on his head.

It didn't smell like Irvine, and hadn't been broken in, sitting stiffly atop his head, but just the mere feel of the weight that he had come to associate with comfort and love ―Irvine― made him feel just a little better.

He opened the window, letting the night air ride over his face coolly, but it wasn't true night air, where there was a difference in temperature and that slight humidity, and the atmosphere was still, but brimming with potential energy. The only difference between Traverse Town's day and night was a slight lightening of color, and the air was just a tad drier in the day, but nothing truly discernable. If anything, the only telling sign would be the amount of people out. He'd used to like nighttime more than daytime, but this was ridiculous, and certainly aided his brooding moods ―Don't be depressed like that, it's not good for the health—or help you score chicks. Not that you need that with me around, right? ― He hated the perpetual darkness just as much as Cloud, it was simply that he'd gotten used to it.

He groaned at that thought and looked up at the stars, dulled by Traverse's bright neon lights. Cloud.

He felt so guilty—Irvine had given him so much, and Leon had no right to ever forget him, even for a second, much less replace him in his thoughts with someone else. It's just that it was so easy to become wrapped up in observing Cloud—from the way he tilted his head when he was displeased with something, the way his weight shifted when he stood and walked, or to the feel of his strength pushing against his when they battled. It didn't help that they spent so much time together, or that there seemed to be some invisible force pulling them together, some gravitation that Leon sometimes unconsciously followed before stopping and realizing with confusion how strong it truly was. He bit his lip, feeling almost ashamed that he could have dismissed Irvine from his thoughts, painful as they were.

The bed hardly looked comfortable, even if it was the middle of the night. He needed to clear his thoughts, and sitting cooped up in his room wasn't helping at all. It was too much, to know that he was in the room next door, and the thought stayed with him as he changed into his usual leather clothes and grabbed the Revolver. And as he walked by the half-open door, determinedly avoiding even a glance at the blonde he knew he'd be able to see from this angle, he wondered why it felt like there was a magnet trying to pull his face in to look anyway.

No. He had a duty, to Irvine. Besides, Cloud had Zax.

OoO

Cloud rolled over in his bed, doggedly trying to reclaim sleep with his head underneath the pillow. In his vaguely conscious state, he could hear sounds coming from the hallway and beyond—Leon, in the bathroom probably. Which didn't make sense, because there had been no wake-up knock on his door, but maybe Leon had forgotten, or had waken up earlier and decided to give Cloud a couple extra minutes, or some similarly mundane reason. However, when he pushed up a corner of the pillow to look out from underneath it, he saw through his half-open door that the bathroom door was ajar, and the lights off. Unused. The sounds in fact, were not coming from the bathroom, but from downstairs, meaning the girls were up and making breakfast. He could hear the muffled echoes of Yuffie's voice and the clank of metal pans. Had Leon forgotten to wake him? That was hardly possible, as his door was open, and this was a daily habit, and it would be rather hard to overlook that Cloud wasn't right next to him as he usually was in the mornings. So… the only other option was for Leon to have overslept.

Two and two didn't add up, and the gears in his head had to work through sleepy cobwebs to realize that something was off. In all the time Cloud had been in Traverse, Leon had never once overslept. In fact, he was the first one to wake up every morning, with Cloud towing behind. He blinked through the confusion in his head, surprised to feel slight alarm rising inside him as he stumbled out of bed and rushed out of his room. What could have happened to make Leon, of all people, oversleep?

However, when he stood in Leon's doorway, his alarm was stopped cold and replaced by simple nothing, an emptiness that washed over him like thick, lead-loaded water. The bed was empty, hastily made, with stray wrinkles decorating the otherwise plain coverlet, and a feathery breeze blew in unnoticed from the open window. He wasn't sure why, but looking around the empty room and sinking down on the bed as the brief adrenaline faded out of him made him feel… disappointed.

He scoffed and flopped over, planting his face into Leon's pillow and exhaling. He had no reason to feel like that whatsoever. Leon wasn't obligated to tell him where he was and what he was doing. Not only was Cloud not his mother, or Aerith, but they weren't close enough for that either…

It was just that… well, if something was the matter, Cloud had somehow thought that maybe Leon would come to him… and he really had no reason to even think that, because Cloud himself would probably not have gone to Leon to tell him his personal problems. He felt ridiculous and frustrated with himself at having expected something like that of Leon when he wasn't ready to give the same. He growled and shoved away his disappointment as anger because it was so much easier to deal with and raised himself just enough to punch Leon's pillow hard, then let himself fall back onto the bed, his face planted squarely on the large pillow.

He was surprised to find that he could vaguely distinguish Leon's smell from the pillow as he breathed in. He'd thought that was just a fake romance ploy when such things happened in novels and such, but he breathed in again just to make sure, and indeed, sifting among almost stale or musty pillow-air, he could smell something else, stronger, but just as evasive. He wasn't sure if it was really Leon's scent,—Maybe it was just a decomposing goose feather, or mold, or some weird thing— but for some reason he felt like delusion was a path he would much rather take, and buried his face in deeper to see if he could catch a stronger whiff. It was… warm, and reminded him of woods, a scent that was so rare in his world and always left a strong impression on him— of redwoods and towering pines.

The calm he'd managed to gather like that fled him when he finally stood to get ready for the day and remembered that Leon had disappeared somewhere without bothering to tell him. And what upset him the most wasn't that he was angry at Leon's actions, but that he'd been stupid enough to expect that the older man would tell him. He felt ridiculous and naive, but most of all, disappointed. He barely held back from slamming the door behind him, and when he spit in the sink the water was tinged with blood from brushing his teeth too hard, and his scalp fared little better when he brushed his hair.

He stalked down the stairs, and both Yuffie and Aerith turned to look at him, smiling brightly. He hadn't realized he'd been scowling until his face relaxed a bit, feeling like bits of clay were falling in clumps from his face muscles, and with a pleased start realized that they probably knew where the brunet had gone off to.

"Morning, Cloud!" Yuffie clapped him on the shoulder and blinked as she saw no one following him, "Where's grouch-face?"

"Oh," so they didn't know. His frustration went up one notch.

"Oh? What kinda response is 'oh?'" the ninja demanded with a roll of her eyes. Aerith's eyebrows drew together slightly as the blond only scowled further, roughly drawing out a chair and settling himself in it.

"…He left?" the flower girl guessed, and Cloud's grit teeth were enough of an answer.

"Well, that's not good," Yuffie scratched her head, pouting, "Leon only does that when he's depressed. It's been a while since that's happened," she paused and suddenly raised one of her eyebrows, giving Cloud a look he knew he was supposed to interpret, but subconsciously decided it was safer not to at this point, "Hmm… Well, whadaya know, that hasn't happened since you came here!"

Hardened sapphires ignored the comment, choosing instead to glare moodily at some nondescript spot on the wall. Aerith placed a pile of pancakes on the table, but Cloud didn't touch them, and for the first time, she didn't press the subject further, wringing her hands as she looked out the window.

"Will you go look for him?"

Cloud's head snapped up, and he looked at her incredulously. Well, sure, he'd figured he would eventually, but Aerith usually didn't intervene much unless she felt it was necessary.

"He never listens to me or Yuffie," she continued, "But I have a feeling he might listen to you."

"What makes you say that?" Cloud bit out. It's not like he considers me a friend… and I shouldn't have either…

"You can relate better to him than we can," she responded, watching his anger dilute under insecurity at the prospect of his task. He hesitated.

"And what am I supposed to say to him?"

Gentle green eyes very deliberately paused, as if trying to measure out the weight of her words, "Think of what Zax would have said to you were it you and him in this position."

Just the name, uttered by lips other than his, was enough to make a shiver course down his spine, and he couldn't look her in the eyes for a moment.

"I'm… not him," he murmured, but it sounded false, and ironic, since he'd spent a good part of his life believing he was Zax and living with his memories. But that in itself had been false anyway.

"Yeah, what do you expect one moody guy to do for another moody guy?" Yuffie jibed and proceeded to mimick their deep voices, " 'My life sucks,' — 'Yeah, mine too. Let's brood together.' "

Cloud might have quirked a smile, if he hadn't been too preoccupied with that pained, nostalgic feeling he got every time he thought of Zax, the one that buried itself inside his gut and stayed there even after the memories weren't as vivid and the subject was no longer foremost in his mind. In any case, he appreciated her attempt to cheer him up.

"Just… please go talk to him. I get so worried about him when he gets like that," Aerith pleaded, but Cloud knew that she could worry about practically anything, so her worry didn't particularly affect him.

It surprised Cloud to see the sketches of worry in Yuffie's eyes and her quiet voice, though. He found that the fact that even Yuffie was concerned troubled him more than anything else had that morning, "It's scary when he's all depressed and junk."

Aerith sighed and looked at him, and he tried to avoid feeling guilty at her saddened look, so he left without another word, gathering the Buster sword and letting it click into place on his shoulder. At this point, he had little choice, and it wasn't just their pleads that were pushing him along.

The streets were humid, and the clouds seemed laden with moisture, but their shade told him it wouldn't rain anytime soon. He ran his hand through his hair, pulling at the roots, and mused on how pain was actually rather distracting. But he wasn't a masochist, and he'd had more than his fair share of pain in his twenty-some years of life. He didn't really need anymore. Had he given it more thought, he'd have realized that was the reason he felt so unsure of his growing ease and familiarity around the brunet man he was currently searching the still-sleeping streets for. Leon wasn't the only one afraid of rejection.

He was skirting around the pressing subject in his mind and he knew it. He scanned the streets with sapphires made a shade darker by worry, and he felt like there was a rope tied around his body, dragging him forward without a thought to the anxiety and anger brewing inside him.

But now that anger was secondary, since it had been his own fault that he'd trusted Leon enough to delude himself into believing he could be his confidant. He'd never been really angry about that fact, just frustrated at himself and feeling stupid about it. Those feelings he had replaced with anger were now left raw as his resentment was washed away by confusion and concern. The streets around him were only beginning to rouse, the streetlamps brightening to allow better visibility in the dark day. Empty, and noiseless, except for the occasional Heartless he ran Buster through. Meaning it had been a while since Leon had come through here, if he had at all, if the Heartless were beginning to reappear.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, schooling his face into the stony façade he'd mastered throughout the course of his life, knowing it would easily hide the litter of emotions inside, and the one thought that unnerved him the most.

And if I do find Leon, then what?

Cloud was no psychiatrist, he had enough junk in his life to deal with, and rather unsuccessfully, he might add— he was most certainly not qualified to try to help Leon, much less when he knew nothing of his sparring partner and doubted he'd be told anything even if he asked. What the hell was he supposed to do when he found Leon?

The blond couldn't get his head around it. Leon had seemed fine just the night before—in good humor, even, he'd laughed at one of Yuffie's jokes, and helped Aerith wash the dishes while Cloud talked to Cid about the upcoming Coliseum Tournament. What could have happened to turn his mood around so drastically?

Well, if anything, he could start conversation off with that. They'd proposed to participate in the next tournament as a team, and Cloud couldn't deny that he was excited. The mere thought of fighting alongside Leon, instead of battling against him, sent bursts of electricity to raise the flesh of his skin, making his stomach clench in pleasant anticipation. But now was not the time to be thinking about that—he had to find Leon.

Merlin would not be up at this hour, leaving Cloud with little other choice than to slosh through the waterway to check their training spot. Cloud had often gone there to think, and he had a hunch he'd be able to find the former SEED commander there. It was calm and secluded, and the burbling of liquid rivulets always made him feel at peace.

But contrary to his original instinct, he found that his footsteps echoed emptily in the stony corridor, and the water's gurgling was the only sound to accompany his weary sigh.

A sudden thought came to him, and he was only glad that he wasn't the type of person to dwell on what-if's, even if this one was rather disconcerting. What if Leon hadn't voluntarily left, as Aerith and Yuffie had led him to believe— what if something had happened to him? Did the Heartless have anything to do with it? What if he'd been hurt, or kidnapped, or—

He shook his head, focusing instead on the sensation of his spiky bangs brushing ticklishly across his face, and breathed in once to clear his head. He was definitely overreacting, and that was the one thing he hated to do more than anything else. It bothered him to realized that Leon was one of the few people that were able to make him lose control like that— always, this wasn't the first time his mind and body had gone on overload due to some careless action of Leon's.

He figured he was completely wrong about all his sudden what-if's, but the alarm was still there, and it only tightened that rope around his chest even more, and he was getting sick of it. Pathetic. Since when did he worry about people —Leon— like that? Apparently, it's not like they were even friends, he had to keep telling himself.

His disappointment and frustration were like fumes of heavy smoke trailing darkly behind him, and every one of his steps was a demonstration of them to the ground, heavy and grinding. He'd wandered all of Traverse by now, and there were people out on the streets by this time, but he didn't think he'd be able to civilly ask someone if they'd seen Leon. No matter, he'd find the errant brunet on his own.

He turned a corner of third district, hearing a faint jabbering that meant there were Heartless there, and unclipped Buster, holding it at the ready. Then he heard the unmistakable metal clang of a sword, and the puff of evaporating Heartless, and his heart nearly lodged itself in his throat.

There was Leon, surrounded by several small Heartless and a couple Large Bodies. There was already a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and he looked slightly distracted and out of sorts, but even as Cloud rushed forward, he had already leapt up and sliced one of the Large Bodies into neat halves.

The first thing that should have struck him as odd was that there was no acknowledgement of his helping presence, but Cloud assumed it due to the fact that they were in the middle of the fight. It took a little over half a minute before the small herd of Heartless was gone, leaving glistening hearts to rise and disappear into the nothingness of the dark sky. Cloud was only aware of a euphoria-like relief that had spread over him like cold water, and he almost didn't care to ask for an explanation, he was so relieved. He replaced Buster on his back, impatiently waiting for Leon to do the same as a barrage of questions and thoughts flitted inside him, and he prepared to release the bottled up frustration he'd been nursing the whole morning, knowing he'd be unable to hide his relief as well.

But as Leon stood with his back to him, wiping his forehead, Cloud instead took notice of the cowboy hat hanging on his back by a neck-string, and he forwent his initial biting anger for amusement at the thought of cowboy-Leon. And that was exactly what came out of his mouth.

He'd realize later how tactless he'd been at that moment, but then again, he'd never been exactly socially adept.

"What's with the hat? You gonna round up some Heartless?" he asked wryly.

And then, too slowly and calculatingly to be unintentional, Leon turned around and walked right past him without giving Cloud even a spare glance.

Cloud could only stand in frozen shock, and somewhere inside noted numbly that this hurt much more than his hell-sent wing ever had.

Hm, I get the feeling that this was a little different than the rest of the story, and not just because it's the first chapter that's not self-contained-- meaning that yes, it's not a stand-alone chapter, it'll be continued! I left a cliffhanger :shrug: Kinda. But yeah, a lot of you are commenting similar things. Like... Cloud cross dressing... I'll have to figure out how to incorporate that, andsame with Sephy... Oh,and about Irivine... well, I chose him over Seifer cause I like Irvine/Squall more. And Irvine's like Zax, at least, more than Seifer.

Anyway, review pretty please, and if you got any 'broken rituals' that I could make a chapter out of, drop me ideas!