Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Defining Love ❯ Chapter Twenty-Two ( Chapter 22 )

Defining Love

Chapter Twenty-Two

 

“Dad,” Lore called again, shaking his father's shoulder.

 

Bolting upright, Squall was seized with worried attentiveness. “What's wrong?” he asked, glancing around to find his bearings. After Irvine had left, he'd gone to his bedroom to rest for a bit, but hadn't counted on actually falling asleep.

 

Frowning, Lore answered, “Nothing. I knocked and called, but you didn't wake up.”

 

Taking a moment to let the situation set in, Squall relaxed a bit. Running a hand through messed strands of lengthy brown hair, he muttered, “Sorry.” There was a fleeting feeling of frustration, but it passed quickly.

 

“Are you sick?” Lore questioned with increasing concern.

 

Shaking his head, Squall wondered briefly why he'd fallen asleep so deeply. It wasn't unusual for him to feel particularly worn out after a mission. His time of day was thrown off and it was difficult to fall asleep away from home, so he usually returned sleep deprived. “I was tired,” he excused. While falling asleep wasn't anything to apologize for, it wasn't often that he was caught off guard.

 

Figuring that his father hadn't slept much the last couple of days, Lore let it go. “Grandpa's here,” he informed.

 

Nodding faintly, Squall acknowledged Laguna's arrival. Irvine had left for Trabia a little while ago and the president was joining them for dinner. It was pizza night, but he couldn't remember if they'd agreed to order in or go out.

 

Standing for a long moment, Lore hesitated in leaving. “Dad,” he began in an almost cautious tone. “Before, what was Uncle Irvine upset about?”

 

Blinking until his eyes reluctantly promised to stay open, Squall contemplated what to tell Lore. “Your uncle has never liked Seifer,” he said impassively.

 

“Yeah, but he couldn't have always been that touchy about it,” Lore disputed, replaying how the entire topic had been blatantly shunned.

 

Shrugging, Squall asked, “How often have you mentioned Seifer in front of him?”

 

Recalling very few instances where discussions with his uncle had included the ex-knight, Lore was unable to deny his father's sensibility. Nonetheless, as someone who knew every subtle nuance to the reticent man's moods, he knew there was something going on. Staring solemnly into unreadable stormy blue eyes, he asked, “Did something happen?”

 

Gazing back unwaveringly, Squall knew what words he would end up speaking, but didn't say them right away. “Between Seifer and myself,” he answered vaguely, futilely trying to write it off as nothing.

 

“Should I be sitting down for this?” Lore queried, only half joking. He was having a frustratingly difficult time gauging his father's emotions. Usually the indifference the man portrayed was simply an innate calmness that was easy to look past with a trained eye. As tried to see beyond the guarded coolness he became lost.

 

Squall had yet to find the delicate phrasing such a topic required. There was no sugar coating the fact that he'd made out with Seifer, but he hadn't needed to hide the gritty details from Irvine, so he hadn't thought of a better way of saying it. Though he was desensitized to embarrassment after two days of Irvine telling him that he was lusting after the ex-knight, he was still very much ashamed. “Seifer expressed certain feelings for me,” he stated quietly, hoping the young man understood his meaning.

 

Filled with tumultuous emotions, Lore took a moment to gather the many questions in his head. Not caring if he was impeding anyone's future happiness by rigorously screening the people allowed near, he'd never allow Seifer Almasy the high level access required to wine and dine his father. “You told him to fuck off, right?” he questioned angrily, suddenly understanding why the ex-knight had come to see him at school.

 

Taken aback by how Seifer-like his son's words were, Squall didn't immediately register the question. Stumbling over the proper classification of what he'd done, which hadn't exactly been pure rejection of the ex-knight's advances, he decided to pretend like his most recent visit to the blond's apartment simply hadn't happened. “Essentially,” he said in short agreement.

 

“Sorry,” the youth mumbled quickly, disapproving of his choice in words. “I just, I don't know. I feel like an idiot for not seeing it.”

 

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Squall wallowed in the shared feeling of obliviousness. He didn't understand how he'd not known sooner. “It's a relatively recent development,” he assured, not wanting his son to feel as though not noticing had been some failure.

 

Rolling his eyes, Lore sat down next to his father, jostling the bed slightly. Scoffing, he muttered, “Since he moved here.” He hadn't taken the ex-knight's perverted taunting lightly, but he also hadn't taken it seriously. No matter how angry the annoying blond had made him, he'd trusted his father's judgment in considering it superficial teasing.

 

Not commenting, Squall didn't want to spare the topic more time than necessary. “If your grandfather's here, we should eat soon,” he suggested.

 

Frowning, Lore was confused when his father stood up as though there wasn't anything more to discuss. “That's it?” he questioned incredulously.

 

Shaking lengthy bangs out of his eyes, Squall gazed at his son thoughtfully. “What else is there?” he returned in question.

 

“Dad,” Lore said expectantly. “Even though I barely know the guy, I'm positive he isn't the type of person to just walk away. What did he say when you turned him down?”

 

Shifting in place, Squall leaned to the side and crossed his arms. He didn't like where his son's line of questioning was going. It was a perfectly legitimate thing to ask, but he really would end up lying to the boy if it became a matter of concealing the exact details of the ex-knight's confession. “It doesn't matter,” he dismissed firmly, resolving to skirt the topic and make it clear he didn't want to talk about it.

 

Feeling rebuked, Lore didn't press any further. He felt like his world was turning upside down. His father was dating another man, which he'd thought would have been the greatest of his troubles. There was a rift forming between them and he hated it. His father never kept secrets from him. He felt like he was no longer welcome in certain parts of the man's life, which was a heavy disappointment that he didn't even feel like he had any right to complain about. He wanted to say something, but he suspected it was only the natural order in parent and offspring relationships.

 

Squall couldn't take the pained look in blue-green eyes. Considering the subject closed, he left the room with a heavy heart.

 

--

 

Watching the sharp-eyed gunman's approach, Seifer wondered how easily the lanky man could get away with his murder. Feeling rather nostalgic, he calmly reminisced over a previous time Leonhart's guard dog had come to bark at his heels. The last time he'd been run out of town, it had been for a slightly different reason, but the general theme of his unwanted presence remained the same.

 

“Almasy,” Irvine spoke lowly, glancing around the construction site with distain. The half erected stadium was vacant. He'd caught sight of the last crewman leaving after a good two hours of overtime. Ensured privacy, he was free to do whatever he wanted.

 

“Greetings,” Seifer said smarmily with a playful smirk. He'd already had a few goes at Leonhart, which meant he was dealing with failed guard dog that was likely to be twice as vicious.

 

Standing tall, height rivaling the ex-knight's, Irvine ordered, “Stay the hell away from Squall.”

 

Smirk widening, Seifer questioned innocently, “Now why would I do that?”

 

“Cut the bullshit, you bastard,” the gunman hissed angrily, hand twitching for his weapon. He'd foreseen trouble with the instigative blond and had chosen to leave his guns in the car.

 

Lips forming a straight line, Seifer's expression sobered. “I'm allowed to want him,” he stated. He was slightly disappointed that Leonhart hadn't been the one to confront him. He had a strong desire to kiss the stubborn brunet again.

 

“Look but don't touch,” Irvine advised venomously.

 

Brows rising subtly, Seifer pointed out, “Squally-boy certainly wasn't complaining while I was touching him. Why don't you let him choose between me and that prick you set him up with?”

 

“He's already chosen,” Irvine hissed in annoyance.

 

Scoffing, Seifer folded his arms. “Be fair now cowboy,” he chastised. “Leonhart chose who you wanted him to. Between you and the brat, you've been making all the decisions.”

 

Jaw clenching and unclenching, Irvine was struck with an uneasy feeling that the ground he stood on wasn't quite as solid as he'd like to think. He'd certainly pushed Squall in the right direction, but that was hardly making choices for the reserved fighter. “Cale won't hurt Squall,” he declared, not quite as certain of that fact as he sounded. Weighing the options, it was clear to see who would take better care of his close friend. “This is just some twisted conquest for you.”

 

“Possibly,” Seifer agreed, almost laughing at the way violet-blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. It was obvious that his feelings were fairly shallow, even he'd admit as much. “I know what I want, and it's Leonhart. If it gets old fast, I doubt he'll be shedding any tears at my expense.”

 

Irvine forced himself to calm down a bit. He could see it more clearly now. He didn't consider himself an expert on what went through the ex-knight's mind, but he could make a few guesses based on his general understanding of the man's possessive and domineering personality. “You're wrong,” he informed levelly, adjusting his hat. “If Squall became involved with you, he'd become attached.” Regardless how much the rivals had fought as cadets, if Squall were willing to sleep with someone then the emotionless ice prince would develop feelings. That was part of what made the former commander so innocent, unable to separate the physical from everything else.

 

Laughing, Seifer tried to picture Leonhart becoming attached to anyone. “Hyne Kinneas, are we talking about the same person?” That wasn't true. He could easily imagine the current version of his rival becoming attached. He'd witnessed the drastic changes first hand, watching the doting father coddle his kid. If he recalled correctly, there had been an instance where he'd thought the cowboy was suspiciously intimate.

 

“It's not funny,” Irvine bit out angrily. “What you're doing is not some game. Quit trying to mess with him just to prove you can.”

 

“I've never needed to prove anything,” Seifer returned. “If you want me to say he's special to me, I won't. I think the fact that I'm going after another man in the first place is enough to prove I'm less shallow than you think.”

 

Eyes widening, Irvine came to the abrupt realization that the ex-knight wasn't even gay. “You're not gay?” he questioned dumbly.

 

“That's some gaydar you've got there,” Seifer quipped snidely, insulted that anyone would think he was gay. He didn't want Leonhart because he liked dick.

 

“This is bad,” Irvine mumbled to himself, taking his hat off in frustration. There was a determination in jade-green eyes that was almost frightening, yet the ex-knight could not possibly harbor a flicker of caring emotion for Squall. For the discreet brunet to be lusting after someone was bad enough, but Seifer Almasy was the worst sort of person to become involved with. “What ego trip are you on? Just because he was pregnant that doesn't make him a woman.”

 

Lips twitching slightly, Seifer informed, “I've already determined that much for myself.”

 

Sorely tempted to put a few shots in the ex-knight's kneecaps, Irvine wasn't entirely grateful that he'd thought to confront the blond unarmed. “I'm not forcing Squall's hand, but I have told him that staying away from you is a good idea.” There was apparently no talking the ex-knight down, which meant tightening security on Squall's end.

 

Green eyes narrowed. “I'm not asking for permission cowboy. Stay out of my way.”

 

“Do you honestly think I won't do everything in my power to keep Squall safe from an egomaniac like you?” Irvine shot back, cutting the air with his hat in a heated gesture.

 

“From what I hear, you're not exactly local. You can't be at his side all the time. I'll have my chances,” Seifer declared in a threatening manner.

 

Pushed towards the edge, Irvine tempered himself with every ounce of self-restraint he had. “I'll become your worst enemy if you go near him again,” he warned.

 

Barking with laughter, Seifer found the notion amusing. “He's a big boy. If you smother him, he'll resent you one day.”

 

Glaring fiercely, Irvine wondered how he could possibly reside in Esthar often enough to make certain Squall wasn't left alone. He could always count on Lore to help, but the sixteen year old wasn't trained properly and he doubted Squall would appreciate any help.

 

Quite certain there would be no winning the gunman's support within any lifetime, Seifer simply ran with the bad boy image he would undoubtedly continue to be painted with throughout history. “I've known him for all my life and haven't gotten bored with him yet. If we only ever fuck a few times, then it's a few good fucks. The way I see it, no matter how bad things turn out, it's been worse between us before.”

 

“Almasy,” Irvine began, not knowing how else to impress his standing. “Have you seriously considered the consequences? If you hurt Squall, there won't be a place in Esthar you can run to. The president will hunt you down like a dog, and then I'll take care of you.”

 

“We'll see,” Seifer commented, eyes alight at the issue of a challenge. He'd missed such confrontations while out at sea.

 

Chuckling at the surreal predicament, Irvine decided he was done with words. Throwing the first punch, he estimated he had about five punches for every transgression the ex-knight had made.

 

Seifer couldn't help but grin even though it stung. Lip split, he licked the blood away and stood straight. “That wasn't very diplomatic of you cowboy,” he chastised, throwing a swing of his own.

 

Stunned, Irvine realized he shouldn't have tried to take it. Managing to keep his balance, he stumbled until his vision cleared. The ex-knight was insanely strong, something he hadn't considered. Worst of all, he suspected the hit had only been a fraction of the man's power, which was why his jaw wasn't broken.

 

“What's wrong?” Seifer jibed condescendingly. “This is what happens when all you do is pull a trigger from a safe distance. You have no defense.”

 

Violet-blue eyes glared. Tossing his hat aside, Irvine prepared himself for the ensuing fight. No one messed with Squall without facing consequences and he'd be damned if brute strength was enough to take him down.

 

--

 

Squall sat quietly in his own little world while waiting for Cale to arrive. In Lexis Café, where he'd usually spent his time with the white haired professor even before they'd begun dating, he brooded over recent events while sipping coffee. It was mid afternoon, and despite the sunny weather, he preferred to observe the day outside from indoors.

 

It had taken him a while to come to the conclusion that he should tell Cale what had happened between him and Seifer. Although it seemed unnecessary and he'd been advised not to, it felt dishonest to say nothing. He didn't need the matter weighing on his conscience.

 

Knowing the most truthful words would be the ones he didn't try to come up before hand, Squall still found his mind running through various ways to explain what had happened. He loathed pointing fingers, but how could he possibly recount anything without admitting the pleasure he'd received. He couldn't lay the blame on Seifer entirely. It was a betrayal on his part. With latent guilt, he was steadily feeling worse with each passing moment.

 

Somehow, it just felt like Hyne was working against him. He hadn't been romantically involved with anyone for years, now he was suddenly involved with one man while obsessing over another. One event had supposedly triggered the other, but his body didn't seem to care that Seifer's feeling amounted to little more than jealousy.

 

Disheartened, Squall stared out the café's window at the steady stream of moving bodies. Glancing down at pale hands, he studied the white cuff of his shirtsleeve. Touching the collar of the red t-shirt layered over the white shirt beneath, he fingered the black scarf wrapped around his neck. There was nothing to hide, but he couldn't shake the urge to cover his neckline.

 

Noticing the arrival of the tall professor out of the corner of his eye, Squall lowered his hand swiftly. Taking a sip of his coffee, he gazed coolly out the window, collecting his thoughts one last time.

 

“Hey,” Cale greeted warmly, shrugging out of his long trench coat. Wearing black slacks and a burgundy colored dress shirt, he was overdressed for their plans to just hang out. Bending low, he kissed soft lips briefly before taking a seat across from the composed beauty.

 

Stormy blue eyes fell to the tabletop, unable to meet the crimson gaze of his devoted partner. He felt laden with guilt suddenly.

 

“Sorry I'm late. My lecture ran a little long,” the islander apologized, checking his watch to see how long he'd kept the brunet waiting. Frowning, he realized he wasn't really late at all. “Did you get here early?” he questioned, knowing he'd taken longer than usual.

 

Squall nodded. He'd gotten there early so he could take some time to contemplate his choice of action. “I need to tell you something,” he murmured quietly, hands cupping the base of his coffee mug to steal some warmth.

 

Studying effeminate features, Cale tried to determine what the former commander was referring to. A doubtful part of him feared that the brunet was going to break up things off, but he felt it was prudent to place a bit more faith in their relationship. “Sure,” he replied, willing to listen to anything Squall had to say.

 

Using silence to impress the severity of his words, Squall waited a moment before saying, “I was with someone else.”

 

There was a long pause as Cale was drawn back to reality. Leaving behind his study of how the sunlight came in from the window to brighten mesmerizing grey-blue eyes, the brunet's meaning slowly sunk in. “What?” he questioned uncertainly, not confident he was interpreting correctly.

 

“…” Squall was uncomfortable phrasing it any other way. He felt like he was a cadet again, overhearing a sympathetic group of friends listen to how someone had a cheating boyfriend.

 

Swallowing dryly, Cale found his mouth working faster than his brain. “You slept with someone else?”

 

Shaking his head, Squall murmured, “Things got out of hand, but I never slept with him.”

 

Running a hand through silver-white hair, Cale tried to rid himself of the hurtful images his mind kept drawing. Knowing it would only serve to make his mind more unsettled, he asked, “Who was it?”

 

Hesitating, Squall stared into crimson eyes, trying to determine if the man truly wanted to know. “Seifer,” he answered evenly.

 

Somehow, Cale had known who it was going to be. “Were you confused?” he asked, not seeing how the rejection aspect hadn't come before everything else. Having considered the transitional period in their relationship over with, he'd assumed they were officially dating and not just carrying on as friends who fondled each other. It was surprising that Squall was confused about dating him. More than surprising, it left a bitter lump in the pit of his stomach.

 

Confused was an understatement. Squall had been baffled and confounded by Seifer's confession. “Yes,” he replied, wondering what sort of reaction he should expect.

 

Bowing his head, Cale took several moments to let it all set in. He wasn't sure what he'd been hoping for in his relationship with Squall. It was painfully obvious that the brunet was not in love with him and no matter how much his feelings grew it could never substitute any requited love. He wasn't angry, but the bitterness he felt grew at the thought of Squall with someone else. “I guess I should have expected this,” he muttered dejectedly, hand rubbing his forehead. “We were exclusive though, right?” he asked imploringly, eyes rising to search stormy blue orbs. Even if their relationship was unevenly balanced, he'd been under the impression that dating other people was still a faux pas.

 

“I'm sorry,” Squall said, knowing there had to be an apology involved at some point.

 

Reaching across the small square table, Cale took a pale hand. “You asked me not to idolize you or walk on eggshells,” he reminded, instilling some warmth into cold fingers. “I'm having a hard time believing you really want to be with me,” he said, crimson eyes requesting the truth. “I'm in love with you. Do you feel anything for me?”

 

“I turned Seifer down,” Squall reiterated. Realizing how pathetically wishy-washy his words were, he confirmed, “I want to be with you.”

 

Wishing he could hear such a declaration under more favorable circumstances, Cale took what he could get. Running his thumb over the back of the brunet's hand, he contemplated how to proceed. “I'd never hold anything against you,” he assured.

 

Guilt swelling, Squall glanced away from the professor's gaze. “Doormat,” he accused lightly, wanting the man to know it was okay to be angry.

 

Chuckling, Cale commented, “Only for you.” Trying to smile in reassurance, he failed. He just couldn't smile at the moment. It hurt. He wanted take the brunet into his arms and squeeze tightly until his insecurities were abated.

 

“You should be angry,” Squall stated, meeting red eyes finally. He was angry with himself, even if he didn't show it. His betrayal didn't end with the events that had occurred inside the ex-knight's apartment. His betrayal continued with each stray thought spent remembering the blond's touch.

 

“I know,” Cale agreed. He was hardly fine with it, but if he was angry with anyone it wasn't Squall. “You're still with me,” he said, squeezing the hand in his grasp. “That's all I care about.”

 

Squall couldn't determine why he was having such difficulty forgetting about Seifer. His choice between the two men was clearly cut and he'd already made his decision, yet in moments of idleness he found himself absently playing with the collar of his shirt while thinking of the ex-knight. It wasn't that his body was unresponsive to the islander's touch, but he'd never become lost in it. On the floor of Seifer's apartment with the blond's muscular body heavily pressing down atop his own, the world could have come to an end and he wouldn't have noticed. He still shivered uncontrollably at night when he drifted off to sleep and his body could practically feel the arrogant man's lips kissing him fiercely.

 

“Are you okay?” Cale queried, seeing the dazed look in grey-blue eyes. It wasn't uncommon for the brunet's mind to wander off, but with the way pale cheeks were more colored than usual he wondered if the quiet man had a fever.

 

Suppressing his thoughts, Squall gently squeezed the professor's hand back in a vote of confidence that didn't exist. He needed to forget about Seifer and start concentrating on what mattered. “I'm fine,” he murmured.

 

TBC…