Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Defining Love ❯ Chapter Sixteen ( Chapter 16 )

Defining Love

Chapter Sixteen

 

In a room at the end of the hall, Seifer had become completely immersed in reliving a past that he'd never find documented in any history books. He'd found a virtual time capsule composed of countless photos.

 

Seated on the edge of a bed, there were several boxes set near his feet. Each box was date stamped, spanning from almost seventeen years ago. Inside each was an array of smaller shoebox sized containers. Though not full to the brim, there were more pictures than he could possibly look at in one day. He hadn't pegged Leonhart as the sentimental type, but he also hadn't imagined the stoic man making a half decent parent.

 

Starting from the beginning, Seifer saw for himself what life was like immediately following the war. Everyone seemed to be smiling in a sickening manner, such that the camera didn't even have to be there for him to know they were grinning like fools anyway. It wasn't surprising that a certain moody brunet was never caught smiling freely. Constantly dressed in a uniform that couldn't have been comfortable for the youthful man, the commander was always standing behind a podium or surrounded by countless adoring cadets and officers.

 

Skimming through any pictures that didn't have Leonhart in them, Seifer found there was an abrupt change. The commander was suddenly casually dressed in every photo and the crowds had disappeared. At most, there were three other people near by, all familiar faces. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened. The pregnant man had resigned and gone into hiding.

 

“Seifer?” Squall called quietly from the doorway.

 

A bit surprised, Seifer looked up quickly. Hesitating a moment, knowing he was intruding on the former commander's privacy, he concluded that the boxes hadn't been marked as private and were therefore fair game.

 

Green eyes studied the pale man, trying to place the changes in the rival he'd left behind. Cheeks hollower and chin a bit narrower, puberty-boy had grown up. The effect may have been the result of weight loss, but he'd say it was the loss of all baby fat. “You're a sight for sore eyes,” he stated. Flushed cheeks and dark circles beneath slightly dazed eyes were all he needed to know which way the brunet's cold was going.

 

Groaning a low tone of annoyance, Squall didn't reply with words. Glancing around, not needing to ask what the ex-knight was up to, he walked in. “Ask first,” he reprimanded, voice slightly strained.

 

“May I?” Seifer muttered, continuing to shuffle through a pack of pictures. “Ever heard of digital?” he complained. In truth, there were benefits to be had with hard copies. It was easier to sort through, able to spot more than one picture at a time.

 

Giving the blond a withering glare, Squall settled in at the head of the bed. He had mixed feelings about someone else rummaging through his past. However, judging from the pictures the ex-knight currently shuffled through, it wasn't just his past captured on film. Though the baggy shirts didn't show it, he'd been over three months pregnant.

 

“You realize when those pictures were taken, don't you?” Squall questioned skeptically, wondering why the blond continued to gaze at each photo. It seemed counterintuitive that a man who'd wanted nothing to do with having a child would have an interest in such pictures. Selphie had taken most of them, against his wishes every time.

 

Hands slowing, Seifer stopped his quick shuffling and settled on a rather fetching picture that he found difficult to absorb. Leonhart was smiling, perhaps even laughing. Shirt raised, Kinneas' head was pressed close against a visibly round stomach. The similar expression of amusement on the cowboy's face lead him to believe something was going on inside.

 

Frowning, Seifer turned around and held the picture up. “What the hell is Kinneas doing?” he questioned tersely, greatly annoyed by what he saw.

 

Leaning against the headboard with a pillow in his lap, looking as though he might fall asleep while sitting, Squall glanced through heavy lids. He scowled at the foolish expression on his face, even if reminiscing threatened to put a smile on his face at that very moment.

 

Sighing, Squall replied, “He's feeling Lore kicking.”

 

“Couldn't he do that with his hand?” Seifer muttered darkly.

 

Shrugging indifferently, Squall didn't see why it mattered. “Selphie probably wanted him to do it that way,” he offered, guessing as to why Irvine had put an ear to his abdomen.

 

Scoffing, Seifer turned his back to the brunet again.

 

“Why are you suddenly so interested?” Squall questioned, eyeing the boxes he'd stowed away. Lore had always enjoyed looking at the pictures, most of them anyway. Selphie had gone through a photography phase after the war and her overwhelming need to document everything had trumped his loath for being subjected to her picture taking.

 

“I'm not,” Seifer returned with annoyance. “I'm bored,” he added in explanation.

 

Shaking his head, Squall slowly crawled off the bed. His throat hurt, along with just about every other part of his body. He hated the achy feeling. Intent on making himself some tea, he figured it was harmless to let the ex-knight stay and rummage around. “Whatever,” he commented before leaving the room, entirely baffled by the blond's odd behavior.

 

“You should be sleeping,” Seifer called out through the empty doorway.

 

Not replying, Squall slowly made his way to the kitchen. He didn't need Seifer to tell him what he should be doing. He was certain that if he hadn't been half asleep, finding Seifer in the guest room with those boxes would have thrown him into a state of shock for a good five minutes. The ex-knight's behavior was peculiar, to say the least. He had no idea what was running through the man's head.

 

Rubbing his forehead as his headache became worse, Squall leaned against the island counter while water for his tea heated in the microwave. He cursed his cold, or whatever it was that had suddenly hit him. It was an inconvenience. He needed to see Cale, but would have to put it off. It wasn't fair to leave the younger man hanging for so long.

 

Staring off vacantly as he ran a few practice scenarios of what he'd say to Cale, he would have fallen asleep while standing up if the microwave's beeping hadn't stirred him suddenly. Taking the mug out, he unwrapped a tea bag and set it in to steep. Thinking it prudent to take something for his cold, he searched a nearby cupboard for whatever was on hand. He hoped the medicine would at least keep him from getting any worse.

 

Shuffling along, he progressed slowly towards his bedroom. Hating to waste his day sleeping, he'd hate it even more if he crashed later on while Lore was home. He could only imagine the fuss Laguna would make.

 

Pausing before he entered his room, Squall glanced farther down the hall and considered the man still sitting in there as though having no place else to go. He knew what it was like to look out the window at such an architecturally intimidating city and prefer to stay inside and away from the crowded streets. However, he'd cooped himself up inside with a newborn child to take care of, not a childhood rival for company.

 

Wondering once more what had caused Seifer's odd behavior, knowing it had to have been more than just seeking out a familiar face, he was stunned for a moment. Could Seifer possibly regret leaving all those years ago? Impossible as it seemed for a man of the ex-knight's character, his bias of loving Lore above all else made it difficult for him to also see how anyone could willingly choose to walk away in the first place.

 

Biting his lip in thought, Squall wondered if Seifer was secretly becoming attached to Lore. Ten years ago, he'd been afraid of such a thing happening, too insecure as a parent to believe his role wouldn't be diminished to nothing.

 

Unable to soundly conclude what someone else was feeling or thinking, Squall let it go. Assuming that the blond had better ways to pass the time than to hang around in his apartment looking through pictures of an unwanted life, he felt it was in his best interest to leave it alone and just go with the flow. His head couldn't take much more. When he was feeling better, he'd try to process it all again.

 

Sighing, Squall took another sip of tea. Closing the door behind himself, he glanced at his bed, filled with reluctance to get in it. He hadn't stayed up the entire night talking with Lore and debating the evils of dating Cale just so he could take the next day off. He'd been consumed by recent events for the sole purpose of figuring his feelings out and quickly doing something about them.

 

He could always call Cale. Discussing the matter over the phone seemed wrong, but it was better than not calling or visiting altogether, and certainly better than going to sleep while such a heavy issue hung over everyone involved.

 

Resigned to once again asking Seifer for a little help, he mourned the loss of his phone as he strode down the hall. Standing in the doorway of the guest room again, steaming mug of tea held close, Squall studied his blond rival for a silent moment.

 

Every bit of Lore that wasn't from himself came from Seifer. The boy's broad frame that no one had expected from the small child was thanks to Seifer's tall and formidable stature. The green in Lore's eyes was the same green in Seifer's. A strong chin and roguish good looks were miles away from his effeminate features. Lore's dark hair and pale skin were like his own, but he couldn't deny the differences that would always be there.

 

Speaking up before he was caught staring, Squall requested, “Can I use your phone again?”

 

Ignoring the brunet's question, Seifer frowned as he compared different photographs. “It jumps,” he stated. “Here, you're huge,” he said while gesturing to one pile of pictures, deviously plotting to make fun of the formerly pregnant man later. Pointing to another pile, he said, “But in these, the kid's almost a year old.”

 

Squall scowled. He had a sore spot for the shape he'd been in while pregnant. Disregarding that it had been sixteen years ago, he had half a mind to burn all images of his nine-month pregnant body. No amount of exercise could have kept his stomach from looking like a balloon, which had been entirely natural, considering the unnatural circumstances. He also wasn't entirely over his fear of Seifer barging in and messing up a good thing he had going with his son, and the ex-knight's apparent dislike for missing baby pictures seemed to support his theory about the blond becoming attached to Lore. All in all, Seifer prevailed in saying the just right thing to irritate him.

 

“I've only glanced at the other pictures, but it looks like a day hasn't gone by in between,” Seifer continued to observe. The dates marking each individual shoebox confirmed his words. It struck him as odd that there wouldn't be any pictures of the boy as a newborn. Wasn't that when people usually went trigger crazy with a camera?

 

“Are you going to let me use your phone or not?” Squall bit out hoarsely.

 

“Sure, just tell me who you're calling and why. Then tell me if the pictures are out of order, or if I'm seriously seeing a jump here,” Seifer demanded, already tired of the tedious work involved in getting the tightlipped brunet to give him answers.

 

“Give me the damn phone,” Squall ordered, glaring icily. He didn't take kindly to being ordered around for any manner of business.

 

Seifer rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you're a real tough guy with that cup of tea,” he jibed.

 

“There are pictures missing,” Squall replied, compromising on the exchange of information for the phone.

 

“Because?” Seifer intoned expectantly.

 

Holding his hand out, Squall demanded the use of the phone before explaining anymore.

 

Wagging his index finger back and forth, Seifer chastised, “Patience is a virtue Squally-boy.”

 

Glaring, Squall tried to relay what he was going to do with his patience if Seifer didn't stop being so demanding. “I've already accommodated your wants today,” he reminded. In his home, searching through a very personal collection of pictures, the ex-knight had pried enough for one day.

 

Grunting a note of displeasure, Seifer dug his phone out. Tossing it to an unsuspecting brunet, he laughed when hot liquid sloshed dangerously in the attempt to catch the phone.

 

Glaring at the blond for such childish antics, Squall took his leave to call Cale.

 

Prepared for the possibility that Cale was teaching a class or living life in general, Squall was half expecting to wind up leaving a message. He was mildly surprised when the younger man picked up right away.

 

“Hello?” Cale answered uncertainly.

 

“Cale,” Squall said quietly, hoping his voice wasn't so scratchy that it was unrecognizable.

 

“Squall?” the professor sounded in bewildered excitement.

 

Smirking despite himself, Squall closed his bedroom door and walked to his unmade bed. Starting with an owed apology, he said, “I'm sorry about Lore and Irvine.”

 

“No, it was fine,” Cale assured. “I was worried I'd run you off,” he admitted.

 

Shaking his head, forgetting the action couldn't be seen, Squall went right for the heart of the matter and confessed, “I've been confused.” After a short pause, he corrected, “I'm still confused.”

 

“I love you,” Cale replied solemnly. “That's one thing you don't need to doubt.”

 

Slowly sitting on his bed, Squall blushed furiously. Suddenly very glad that the conversation was taking place over the phone, he worried solely about figuring out what to say and not how to compose his expressions of schoolboy embarrassment.

 

At length, Squall answered the sincere man's feelings. “I can't return that,” he stated evenly.

 

With uneasy laughter, Cale reassured, “I never expected you to. I knew I was out of my league-”

 

“Cale,” Squall interrupted, not wanting to hear any more self-deprecating nonsense from someone he'd come to like as a friend. “I'd like to try.”

 

There was a long pause of uncertainty on both ends. Squall wasn't sure Cale was still there, while Cale couldn't believe what he'd heard.

 

“What?” the professor asked. “Try, as in…”

 

“As in, date,” Squall stated bluntly, a weight lifting from his shoulders as he finally gave a decent reply. It was out there now. He was only promising to try. If his feelings didn't change, then he'd deal with breaking up later.

 

Disbelieving laughter sounded on the other end. “I'm dreaming,” Cale commented.

 

Squall wasn't accustomed to having that sort of effect on a person. It was awkward, but also nice in a certain sense. It was different than being admired for defeating Ultimecia. He incited desire and love in the man, and part of him was attracted to that and enticed by it. He wanted to explore the unfamiliar, hoping to find what Irvine and Selphie had found in each other. Lore was growing up fast. With Cale, if it worked out, then he wouldn't be alone when the time came for Lore to leave.

 

“Hyne Squall,” Cale murmured, sobering a bit. “When can I see you? Where are you right now?”

 

“I'm home,” Squall said. Realizing that the younger man probably shouldn't be around him while he was sick, he informed, “I'm sick right now.”

 

“Are you alright? I mean, you're sick, obviously you're not alright. But, can I get you anything?” Cale tripped over his words, excitement overcoming his brain's ability to form thoughts coherently.

 

“No,” Squall said quietly. “I'm fine.”

 

“Then I'll call you later?” Cale said, more of a question than statement.

 

Without his phone, Squall had no way of having Cale call him later without explaining why he was using Seifer's phone in the first place. “I'll see you at the university tomorrow,” he offered instead, not really up for elaborating on the weird intricacies of his relationship with the ex-knight.

 

“If you're sick, I'll come to you after practice. It ends at eleven, so you can sleep in,” Cale returned, knowing how Squall disliked being fussed over, but not wanting the sick man to show up so they could swim laps like usual.

 

“Okay,” Squall agreed, not certain if he'd get any worse.

 

“Feel better Squall,” came the parting reply before Cale hung up, intentionally trying to seem less overbearing with his feelings.

 

Relieved that the call hadn't ended with another declaration of love, Squall flipped the phone shut. Feeling as though a relationship with Cale might not be so out of his league, he was content in his decision and actually anticipating what happened next. The younger man understood him fairly well, never urging him to speak when he didn't feel like it and never fretting uselessly over his physical or mental health. The man was certainly attractive enough to make him ambivalent about gender.

 

Knocking harshly before opening the door, Seifer strode into Leonhart's bedroom with hopes of catching the brunet in the middle of talking on the phone. “Oh,” he muttered in disappointment.

 

“Oh,” Squall mimicked with an icy glare, mood changing rather quickly. He knew what Seifer had tried to do. “Here,” he said, chucking the phone at the ex-knight's head.

 

Easily catching the object on a crash course for his head, Seifer grinned. Leonhart always paid everyone his or her dues, as shown by the scar on his face. “Don't leave me hanging Squally-boy.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Squall said, “Put everything away when you're finished.”

 

“Sure thing baby,” Seifer agreed, laughing to show he was joking when stormy blue eyes seemed to flash like they did before attacking. “Who'd you call?”

 

Jaw clenching, Squall chose to give an upfront answer. It was easier than dealing with the goading man for another hour. “Cale Bernhein.”

 

“Who's that?” Seifer pressed curiously.

 

Sighing, Squall rubbed his eyes. “You met him when you ran into Lore.”

 

Thinking back, Seifer easily remembered the brief meeting. “Whitey?” he questioned incredulously. “Fujin's cousin with the high heels?”

 

Glaring for each separate insult, Squall replied, “He's taller than you, get over it.”

 

“What'd you want with him?” the blond muttered darkly, not trusting anyone with more than one red eye.

 

“That's not your business,” Squall replied evenly.

 

“Riiight,” Seifer drawled, sauntering closer. “When you put it that way, I completely understand. I am devoted to respecting your privacy,” he said sarcastically.

 

“There's a difference between my personal life involving our son and my personal life involving other matters.” Stormy blue eyes gazed with firm resolve.

 

“So I can pry as much as I want if it's got something to do with the kiddo, but everything else is off limits?”

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Squall commented, “Something like that.” He was too tired to think. Sinking lower, he all but collapsed onto the bed, in front of someone he'd never shown weakness to before. Something was different between them. He'd always prided himself on keeping a cool composure, especially around his former rival. Yet recently, he came undone around the blond and didn't seem to care.

 

“Alright,” the blond agreed with an air of superiority. Sidling closer, shins touching the edge of the bed the brunet half laid on, he looked down upon the pale man. “Then what sort of man is Bernhein, and how much will he be affecting my son's life?”

 

“…” Squall hardly felt Seifer's loophole was brilliant or worthy of legitimizing with an answer.

 

“What do you say Squally-boy?” the blond pressed, towering over his rival's form with a gleam of insatiable curiosity in his eyes.

 

“I say, you have a right to know more about Lore, even if your interests in him are fickle and never seem to land solidly on either side of the fence,” Squall returned, glaring upwards as he leaned against a pillow. “I don't feel well. That's the most I'll tell you about myself. Whether Cale is a friend or a lover or my accountant is none of your concern.”

 

“Is that so?” Seifer mumbled, angry and troubled at the same time. He was surprised at how high handed Leonhart could seem while lying in a bed, and even more surprised that the word `lover' had been used. He had a knot of dread in his stomach, knowing the tall man with silver-white hair was not spending time with Squall to crunch numbers.

 

“Let yourself out,” Squall replied, echoing his earlier words for the ex-knight to leave him alone.

 

Redirecting his line of questioning, hoping to trip the stubborn lion up, Seifer asked, “Why are there pictures missing?”

 

“Ask Lore,” Squall suggested. “It'll give you something to say to him that isn't insulting.” Hardly a dinner topic, if Seifer wanted to do more than exchange insults with his son, then the ice needed to be broken. Though he didn't love the idea of Seifer and Lore becoming friends, everyone deserved a second chance. He couldn't imagine his life without the boy, and was powerless to deny Seifer even a fraction of that bond.

 

“I always get what I want Leonhart,” Seifer declared, straightening up. Experiencing déjà vu for a moment, he berated himself for not cracking the brunet's tough outer shell on his second attempt. Leaving the former commander once again, he chose to pack up and retreat for the day.

 

Seifer wasn't sure where his curiosity came from or why he hated the Hell islander so much. All his life, Leonhart's status as a loner had been a constant. It wasn't something he questioned, just assumed. To think that the ice prince was traipsing around town and warming the beds of other men was infuriating.

 

With the dawning realization that he was quite possibly jealous, Seifer left Leonhart's apartment in a terrible mood. His days of brooding and confusion were only beginning.

 

TBC…