Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Bloodcross Key: Arc 2: Reversals ❯ Part 5 ( Chapter 5 )

****Part 5
 

        ~ "Are you through?" ~

        So cold, the words, lacking the passion which had always radiated from Seifer before the war. Collapsing against the wall outside the infirmary, Squall buried his face in his hands. He wanted to run and hide himself some place where he could push away the pain he never expected to feel. He'd been an idiot to think Seifer would care. After how much he had rejected Seifer over the years, he should have known undoing it wouldn't be easy. Maybe not even possible. And if how he felt now was even a fraction of the hurt Seifer had felt, then he deserved it. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

        He pushed himself from the wall with a sigh. Yeah, Seifer wasn't quite himself at the moment and understandably, and painfully, so, but what if Fujin and Raijin had been wrong?
Squall rubbed his eyes, willing the strain and sting away, at least until he reached his office. It wouldn't do to have Squall Leonheartless, acting headmaster, breaking down in the middle of Garden's halls for all to see.

        Wandering down the hallway, sunlight streamed through the windows and warmed his path, but did nothing to warm his mood. As usual, he had no clue as to what to do. About Seifer. About himself. About whatever the hell was driving his feelings into a chaotic jumble he didn't understand, didn`t know if he wanted to. Hell, about anything in the mess his life had become.

        All he did know, whether Seifer truly cared about him or not, he cared. He could admit that much to himself. And he had cared far longer than he had realized. Losing Seifer the first time, when they thought he had been executed for trying to kill President Deling, he had begun to notice the emptiness it left within him. He had pushed it aside, locked it away, the pain too much to confront or to feel. In many ways he was a coward, at least where dealing with emotions was involved, his own and others'. Especially his own. Besides, the war had been too pressing a distraction to worry about his grief.

        Coming to Garden's main hall, Squall sighed, running a hand through his unruly fall of auburn hair and entered the elevator. Somehow he always managed to find some distraction. Always avoided confronting things too painful to feel. He was good at it too, damn masterful. But masterful or not, having to repeatedly fight his breathtaking rival hadn't helped overcome any fear he had over admitting Seifer had become a part of him; a very important part, he was still discovering. Somehow they had unknowingly grown a friendship unspoken yet deep. No one else had understood. Hell, they pretty much hadn't even paid attention when he tried to tell them just a fraction of the truth. Everyone was so damned determined to get him and Rinoa together, they didn't give a shit for what he was going through, or rather, trying not to go through.

        The elevator pinged and opened to the hall to his office. His gloved fingers clenched unconsciously into loose fists as he stepped into the corridor.

        Well, it worked. He hoped they were happy. And giving in to Rinoa certainly avoided the confusion of why Seifer had done what he had done, why he had become the Sorceress' Knight. Why he had battled against them, tried to kill them, or if he were honest, what truly hurt: why Seifer had fought him, actually fought, to kill.

        It had made no sense, but he hadn't allowed himself the time to feel betrayed. However, afterward, he had seen why he hadn't understood. Seifer's actions hadn't made sense because they weren't his. That bitch from the future had controlled him, forced him, like a puppet, to fight against the closest thing Seifer had to a family. And in the final battle, Squall had seen the sadness in Seifer's eyes, the defeat before his defeat and it was then he knew.

        But knowing isn't enough, one has to find the courage to do something about it. He hadn't had it then. Sure, he could find within what it took to save the world, however, to risk oneself emotionally, that was something else entirely. But now, he must find that courage. Maybe if he hadn't let Seifer down before...

        Squall dropped his head against the oak door to his office, auburn hair shadowing his eyes from the bright lights too intense for his dark mood. The cool of the wood sent an icy shiver through him that no longer gave him comfort in mirroring his icy heart. The frozen walls had long melted under the remembrance of a sun-haired boy with a shy smile, and the sun-haired man he had become with a fierce spirit and a sexy smirk.

        But the spirit and the smirk were gone and he had to find a way to get them back, to get Seifer back, completely, not just in body. He had to find a way to help Seifer through all that had happened. A friend, his friend, was suffering from worse than Ultimecia had tormented him with: another type of control over the old from which Seifer apparently hadn't overcome his unnecessary guilt. If only he knew how to give Seifer back that control.

        Maybe letting him find his way through becoming a SeeD would be a start. Maybe that's what his strange behavior in the infirmary had really been about, claiming control of his own fate, taking care of himself because he believed no one cared or Seifer was too afraid to risk trusting anyone other than himself. Squall could understand that, but as he had himself learned, it isn't as easy or as safe as it seemed. It was lonely. Very lonely.
 

**********

        His body a mass of aches, Seifer shuffled through Garden's halls towards his room, gaze on the metal tips of his boots. A faint rattle of the pills in his pants' pockets, one vial for pain and one for sleeping, broke the unusual quiet with his every step. Uncomfortable with the strange stares and hateful looks following him everywhere he turned he shoved his hands into the pockets of simple black pants Doctor Kadowaki's assistant had brought from his room. Yet, he felt no smaller, no less the object of loathing to the few students wandering the corridors. It was something he knew he had to accept, being hated, but it was still difficult.

        A unexpected rumble in his stomach disrupted his solemn pace and his eyes instinctively darted around him, seeing if anyone had heard. Hungry. He was hungry, something he hadn't thought about for weeks even though he hadn't been fed all that often in his prison. The pain and depression had been so intense he just never had the freedom to notice before. With an exhausted sigh, he turned around and headed down the corridor he had just passed.

        Entering the cafeteria, laughter suddenly dropped into bitter mocking as he walked silently to the dinner line. Eyes followed him. Hateful, angry eyes accused without a word. Seifer had never thought the chattering noise of so many voices could be so deathly and painfully quiet, like whispers of ghosts urging him to his doom. The few in line ahead of him stiffly edged away, preferring to bump against each other than be any closer to him. He couldn't blame them, any of them, for hating him, for being disgusted by his mere presence, so he didn't.

        Once arriving at the counter, he ordered whatever meal was left, weathering the glare the old cafeteria lady stabbed at him. She dropped the food onto his tray with an irritated thump and turned away.

        "I'm sorry," Seifer murmured, hoping she would hear, but knowing it wouldn't matter. Slowly, he walked away, head down, tray gripped tightly in his hands, and headed for an empty table far from anyone.

        He had expected a negative reaction to his return, actually, he had expected worse than angry stares and accusing whispers. However, reality was still much harder to confront.

        Sitting solemnly alone, he ate. The ham and cheese sandwich tangled dry on his tongue, like ashes. Even the lukewarm chicken-soup strangled in his throat. Regardless of his will to ignore them, the eyes still cut into him, scowling with such hate and intensity they smothered him like a thick shroud, merging with the vicious eyes continually haunting him from within. The noise echoing in the large room kept its heavy, scornful pitch, echoing the voices screaming in his mind.

        ~"Knight! Whore! It's your punishment! It's what you deserve! You owe us! You owe us! You..."~

        Seifer buried his face in his hands, fingers clawing his scalp. Go away! Just go away!

        A sudden crash and shake on his table jarred through his elbows, jolting him from his waking nightmare. He dropped his hands, and his startled gaze followed the shadow looming over him to a thin, sneering face, flanked by two other sneering faces.

        "Hey, Sorceress' Knight," the tall, raven-haired student mocked. "We don't like you here."

        Seifer sighed. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his blue-green eyes dropping to the floor, ashamed.

        "You bet you are! Traitor! " the boy growled. A hand slammed onto his tray, jerking his attention to his smashed sandwich then the boy hovering over him.

        So, it had finally begun. Seifer said nothing, just stared at the other boy, waiting for the abuse he deserved.

        "Look, Jake, you got him scared," one of the other students, a redhead, laughed.

        Jake chuckled, grinding his palm into Seifer`s sandwich. "Is the great Seifer Almasy, Sorceress' Knight, scared?"

        Seifer clenched his fists in his lap. Seifer Almasy fears ...noth.....ing. His hands fell open in defeat, any spark of his former fire snuffed by reality. Who was he fooling? Certainly not himself. Seifer Almasy was weak and a coward.

        "Told you. Just look at the chicken-shit!" the redhead jeered, waving his finger at Seifer and laughing.

        "Well, Almasy, at least you have some sense to know when you`re outmatched," Jake smirked. We'll be watchin' you. You step outta line, we'll be on your ass so fast you're head'll spin."

        "Yeah, no one crosses the New Disciplinary Committee," a third boy taunted.

        "Have a nice day, Sorceress' Shit!" Jake sneered then spat into Seifer's soup bowl and turned away, laughing.

        Seifer stared blankly at the glob of spittle swirling in the chicken soup as the three boys sauntered away smugly. Suddenly not hungry, he feebly pushed aside his tray and rose. Not daring to risk meeting any of the mocking, loathing eyes, he left, shoulders hunched, his gaze never rising from the shoe-scuffed floor.

        Yes, so it had finally begun, but it was only what he deserved.
 

******
(End Part 5)

(tbc)