Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Homecoming ❯ Part 5 ( Chapter 5 )

Author's notes: I know it's long in coming, but here is the full version of part 5. Alot has been added to the snippet I had posted before. And actually, I had intended the the entire scene played out in this chapter to finish in this chapter. But once I started fleshing out the dialogue with narrative... well... it became much longer than I expected. The rest of the scene will be in part 6 and going by how this went, it will probably be all of part 6 <grin>. 

Also note I've added a companion story to this one. Homecoming~ Second Chances is the story from Squall's point of view. 

Warnings: Yaoi, angst (always), foul language, possible graphic violence, and most importantly: Rinoa romance. <shudder>

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Part 5:

        Seifer leaned against the doorframe of his room, staring into the darkness. The air was thick on his skin, a suffocating shroud; It hung heavy, dank and musty, like it had been sealed from circulation for far longer than the few days he had been gone. Fitting, he breathed the emptiness already within.

        He shuffled inside, tossing his tattered trenchcoat onto the chair he knew sat in the corner. He should have been angry, and maybe he was. But, a numbness clung to him, going deeper than the aches in his bones. Anger wouldn't get her back. And his pride wouldn't let him beg, although his heart bled to try.

        Collapsing to sit on his bed, he buried his face in his hands. How could she do this to him? How? How could she leave him alone, with no one. No one to love him, no one to understand him, to want him, to... need him. Alone...

        ...Like always. He should have known it was all too good to be true. A sweet girl like Rinoa actually caring about him? What a joke! His own parents didn't care, so why would anyone else. They left him alone and abandoned in a world too vast and lonely for a child to understand.

        Seifer bolted upright and jumped to his feet. Fuck her! Fuck them all! His boots thumped in the darkness as he paced across the carpet, his heart booming in his ears, the heat of his racing blood flushing his skin. 

        Fuck everything! He didn't need her. He didn't need anyone. What an absolute fucking waste of his time. She was a fool to throw him away like last week's garbage. A total idiot! 

        He continued pacing from one wall to the other, like a caged tiger. His every step was ordered by instinct, in the blackness knowing the layout of his room nearly as well as he would in the light. 

        She was an idiot! Seifer Almasy was a far better catch that any she'd get again. Handsome, intelligent, a gorgeous body even another guy would die for -- if he must say so himself, funny, loyal, noble, passionate, strong... the strongest fighter Garden, hell, the world, had... ever... 

        ...seen...

        He stopped. Banging his head against the wall a few times, he slid to the floor and his knees.

        Fuck. She didn't want him. She wanted Squall. Gloomy, pissy, no-personality Squall. No, she had Squall. She had gotten what she wanted. And it wasn't him. Squall. Anti-social, irritating as hell, cold, passionless, beautiful, intelligent, strong, beautiful, funny, a body he would...

        He banged his head on the wall once more. Where the hell were those thoughts coming from? Only weak, sissy-boys noticed other guy's... other uh... guy's... uh...

        Shaking his mind of its disturbing thoughts, he pounded his fist on the sweat mark where his head had just been.

        ... And he was definitely not a weak sissy-boy!

        ...But he was weak; A fact which angered him more than being rejected for a guy that looked like a girl. He wanted so much to be loved, to be needed, he left himself open for attack, vulnerable. He just never expected the attack would come from the one he trusted most. The one he trusted with his dreams and his feelings and his thoughts. The one who wanted someone else. Someone obviously stronger or why else would he lose?

        As he lifted a hand to rub the pounding ache between his temples, the chill wetness on his cheek startled him. Damn, he was weak. However, the bite of it was weak as well. The pain in his heart bled through him, pouring more tears down his face. He couldn't control it if he wanted to and he didn't have the energy to want to.

**********

        Perhaps mere minutes or long hours passed. Which? Seifer was too dazed and numb to know the difference. A soft knock on his door stirred him from his groggy slump on the floor. Seifer curled tighter into himself, covering his head in his arms to drown out anything other than the misery in his heart. 

        But the barrier wasn't enough and another knock broke through his fog of despair. With a helpless sigh and a unspoken curse, Seifer languidly pulled himself to his feet. using the aid of the wall. The slight cool of the smooth paint shivered an edge of clarity to his senses.

        Another knock, harder and more insistent, interrupted his sleepy stumble to the door. 

        "Alright already. Don't get your panties in a bunch," he shouted as he fumbled for the door control, its faint red glow a beacon in the gloom. The door swished aside, pouring bright white light into the room. Seifer reflexively snapped up his arm to shield his eyes and stepped back into the soothing shadows.

        "Seifer," a voice fell from the light, low and curt. Squall. Seifer was certain, even if it was tainted by some strange quality he couldn't quite place. No one else he knew could sound both bored and like they had a big stick shoved up their ass. It was one of Pissy-boy's many talents. Along with stating the obvious. 

        "Funny, how if you come knockin' on my door, I'm what you get," he smirked, but didn't feel it. He didn't feel much at the moment. Not even annoyed. Or pissed. As he should. Just a bit numb.

        Squall sighed. "Seifer, we need to talk." 

        Seifer grunted a laugh. "Well, that's something I..." 

        Squall ignored Seifer and stepped forward. Brushing against Seifer -- none too gently -- as he passed, he thwacked a gloved hand against the wall-panel beside the door. Suddenly, the room flared with a muted white light.

        Shit! Seifer's eyes narrowed to tense slits, stinging -- just from the shock of light, of course. Nothing else. Nope. Certainly not fickle, stab-in-the-back, wannabe princesses who profess their undying love and then rip one's heart to tiny shreds. Not at all. Nope. 

        He winced. Shielding his eyes with his hand, his blinking lashes tickled his palm. Seifer slowly turned in place, and, peeking through the space between his fingers, watched his rival strut to the center of his room. And halt. Presumptuous little arrogant bastard. 

        A wary scowl pursed Seifer's lips. "... never thought I'd hear coming from you," he finished in a low drawl. 

        "Yeah, whatever..." Squall rolled his eyes but the stormy gray-blue held that same mysterious 'something' Seifer couldn't identify -- not in Squall, at least.

        "Sure," Seifer murmured dryly, flinging his arms wide and mock-welcoming. "Come on in, have a seat, make yourself at home, shall I get you a drink, a snack..."

        "This is serious, Seifer."

        Big surprise there! With Squall, it was always serious. Seifer folded his arms across his chest and arched a brow. Such a bundle of sunny good-cheer, that Leonhart. 

        "O-okay, Gloom-boy, so what is it?"

        Seifer's foot tapped on the carpet, the tight weave scratchy to his bare toes. He forced the beat to seem casual, contrary to the erratic skips of his heart. And his skin itched. Kind of squirmy. 

        Momentous as Squall initiating a conversation was -- he should mark it on his calendar, the one from the last Weapons Monthly he kept forgetting to hang up -- it made him nervous. Seifer half expected Squall to tell him the Doc discovered he's dying from some fuck-awful disease and had only ten minutes to live. Would figure considering how the past few days had been. Especially...
    
    &nbs p;   Squall cleared his throat, his eyes darting to the floor then back to Seifer. "I... I know you've been through a lot over the past few we... uh... few days, and today...hasn't ... well.... whatever..." His eyes darted again. "...But too much has happened that you apparently don't know about." 

        Squall took a quick breath and swallowed "Your safety could be at risk."

        Seifer's lips crept into a slow grin as he canted his head. "Aww, I'm touched. But what could possibly have happened that would threaten me?" 

        The whole situation was surreal. Squall. Talking to him. First. No instigation. No challenge. Squall. Now truly his rival in everything -- who took Rinoa. From him. Who was concerned? For him? 

        ...Then Seifer's eyes widened. Shit! "Shit! I did kill Deling, didn't I? That's not..."

        Squall shook his head, his ocean-blue eyes intense and unwavering. "No, you didn't kill Deling. But he is dead. The..."

        His gaze shifted with a flick of his dark lashes and just as quickly returned, the intensity of it, if anything, heightened. "... the Sorceress killed him."

        Sorceress? Was everyone fucking insane? Seifer resisted the urge to tear out his hair in frustration. Or bang his head against a wall -- which was more or less what he felt he had been doing for the last few days anyway. Okay, literally within the past hour or so. And it didn't help. But that was beside the point...

        Nutcases. That was the point. And they seemed to be every-fucking-where! Either the whole world was going insane, or... or....

        "What? Sorceress?" Seifer laughed, a mask to his growing hysteria, and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "You have to be kidding me. If this is your attempt at humor, you may want to get new material. There hasn't been a sorceress in over seventeen years!"

        Squall was calm, arms folded across his chest, slender hips canted to a casual stance. Yet, his eyes... His eyes were dark like a stormy sky. "That's what we need to talk about, Seifer."

        "What? My vast knowledge of history? Or your need for a good joke. I'd offer to tutor you, but..."

        Squall sighed, his face impassive. "As much as I'd love to spend the thirty seconds it would take for you to enlighten me with your vast knowledge of anything, it's not that. It's ... "

        Squall sighed again, his lips pressing into a frown. For several silent moments he stared at Seifer. His brows quivered, like Squall was suffering an excruciating headache. Whatever was on his mind, it must have been bad because Squall almost looked worried. Or concerned. Maybe even afraid.

        Worse still, it was making Seifer afraid. Not that he'd ever admit it. But Squall's behavior since he showed up at Seifer's door was ... unsettling, to say the least. 

        "It's..." Suddenly, Squall flicked his gaze away and focused well over Seifer's shoulder to the wall behind him. 

        Nerves stretched thin, thrumming, Seifer's fingers dangling against his bouncing thigh twitched. What could be so bad Squall couldn't just tell him? His eyes narrowed. Why the hell wouldn't Squall just...

        "Well, fuckin' spit it out, Leonhart," Seifer blurted, his hands clenched into fists to stop them from shaking. He forced a teasing lilt to his tone at the end. Or so he hoped. It had sounded weak to his own ears, but maybe Squall was too distracted to notice. 

        To Seifer's surprise, Squall's face blushed a bright red. The brunet ducked his head, the fall of his chestnut bangs fluttering under the breath of a coughed gasp. Not exactly the reaction Seifer had expected. Or dreaded. Although, in its own way, it made Seifer even more anxious than he already was. 

        Squall quickly recovered, his head darting back upright. His smooth face was again expressionless and unreadable, although pink still tinged his pale skin. He arched a brow, a weird gleam in his smoke-blue eyes. "Not likely."

        Seifer's own brow quirked, confused. And that wasn't the response he had expected either. Squall always was strange. But usually Seifer understood his cryptic little looks and comments. At the moment he was clueless. Not that it was an uncommon turn of events the last few days. 

        Squall continued, clearing his throat with a half-cough, the pink of his cheeks not fading. "Uh... We need to talk about what happened to you. Where you've been. Would have before, but we were kinda... interrupted."

        Seifer's expression darkened, the sadness over Rinoa's rejection dampening his mood. Strangely enough, he felt no anger towards Squall, although he had every right. After all, Squall had stolen his 'true love' from him. Seifer rolled his eyes at the thought of Rinoa and true love anywhere remotely related. He had been such a fool!

        Squall pressed on, like he hadn't noticed Seifer's shift in mood. But that would be typical, Squall never really cared about anyone else's problems but his own. 

        "So, what happened?"

        "If I didn't know better, Leonhart, I could think you actually cared," Seifer muttered wryly, clasping a hand melodramatically over his heart.

        Squall's arms tightened into a more rigid knot across his chest as his eyes narrowed and his lips thinned into a scowl.

        "Okay, okay!" Grumbling, Seifer shuffled over to his bed and sat down numbly, his long legs stretched out before him. "Well..." He sighed and stared, head bowed, as his fingers laced together.

        Seifer was no fool. And he knew neither was Squall. A nagging sense of... something... tickled the back of his neck. Something foreboding. Something which, the truth of, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. But Seifer Almasy never ran from anything. Especially not the unknown.

        "I woke up a few days ago," he began, absently absorbed by the motion of his thumbs rubbing against each other. "... in the middle of nowhere...turns out it was Esthar..." He tried to chuckle but it fell from his throat in a rasped grunt. 

        "... or at least on the continent... about a day from some airstation. The last thing I remembered was being in Timber." Seifer lifted his head and gazed with intense aqua eyes at Squall.

        Arms crossed, Squall stood still and rigid in the middle of the room. Waiting. Expectant.

        There had to be more, right? Right? Timber, then... ? Timber was no where near Esthar. So how...? It was Esthar, right? A sharp pain sliced through his eyes. Blackness crowded the edge of Seifer's vision. Blackness. Nothing but nothingness. 

        Brow wrinkled in agony, Seifer pinched the bridge of his nose as though squeezing out the pain stabbing his mind. Tiny pricks of white light pulsed and darted within the half-dark of his clenched eyelids.

        Fuck, it hurt! He tried to focus, to think, remember. But there was only pain. Nothing but pain.

        He gasped, "I..." 

        Nothing. Black. Only black. Like caught in a dream, a nightmare, darkness enshrouded his mind. Silence engulfed him. He couldn't see. Couldn't hear. Couldn't feel. Or smell. Or taste. Just a vast nothing. And the pain. 

        In the dark, all he could feel was the pain. Taste it. Smell it. Hear it. Blood. Metallic and sickly sweet. And screams. Horrible screams. 

        Then nothing once more.

        "I..."

        "Seifer?"

        His fingers clawed into his scalp, bristled hair tickling his palm. Nothing. Black. Pain. Nothing and nothing and nothing. A nothing so empty it hurt. Cold. Alone. So alone...

        Seifer!"

       And suddenly, it was gone, shattered like fine glass. Like sand seeping through fingers, the dark, cold shroud of that endless nothing slithered from his mind. Shivers raced along his skin. Seifer's hands dropped limply to his lap, slapping against his thighs. He blinked.

        "Seifer." Squall stood just a step or two before him, arms swaying at his side, hands twitching; Like he didn't know what to do with them. 

        Seifer peered up the length of Squall's body, so close he could almost taste the leather and heat of Squall's tight pants. Dark blue eyes stared down at him, a crinkle in the scar between them.

       His breath was quick and sharp. "I... I don't remember anything else. It's... it's... just..." Seifer's lips pouted into a scowl. "... nothing."

        "Nothing?"

        "Nothing. Timber then... nothing. Literally."

        Rubbing the back of his neck, Squall was silent. His thick lashes flickered as his gaze went distant. A familiar distance Seifer knew well. And knew how to bridge. Usually. At the moment Seifer's own mind was roiling with more thoughts, confusion, than he knew how to control. Intruding on Squall's was the least of his concerns.

        Why couldn't he remember? Why did it hurt so much? Why couldn't he fucking remember? Dammit! He couldn't have just appeared in Esthar. Or where ever it was. 

        "It had to have been just a few hours," Seifer said quietly. 

        "What?" Squall blinked.

        "Esthar. It had to be!" 

        "Why do you say that?" Squall's expression was closed, his lips thinned.

        "I... I just know." 

        "Oh?"

        Seifer rubbed his forehead. His hands shook, and his skin was cool and clammy. Damp. The whole situation was decidedly creepy. Very, very creepy. But hell if he would let anyone know his wits were on edge and his skin prickling. Especially not Squall. Hell, he didn't want to know. 

        Staring at the floor, between his legs, the rough fibers of the carpet faded in and out. The blur slithered into his vision as the world crowded in on him, cold and suffocating. Maybe he was...

        No! There was a perfectly logical explanation of how he got several hundred miles from Timber and left in the middle of nowhere. Perfectly logical. And if someone of his superior intellect couldn't come up with one, then... well...

        He pinched the bridge of his nose. The throbbing behind his eyes spiked into pain and flashing sparkles of white. Fuck! There had to be an answer. Why the hell couldn't he find it! Dammit! Through pain-slitted eyes Seifer stared ahead. And stared into the glaring shine of black leather and the silver studs of Squall's belts. He winced. 

        Dammit! Must Squall stand so close? So close the warmth radiating from him heated Seifer's face. Why did Squall have to be so fucking hot? It was stifling. How the hell was he to think straight with gloom-boy looming over him? Hell, he barely had room to breath, no less think. How did the guy even get into that second-skin masquerading as pants? Did Squall have a can of 'spray-on-leather' and he just washed it off at the end of the day? 

        "Squall?" Seifer sighed. "Could you just go sit somewhere, anywhere? I'm sure it has a lovely personality..." With a raised brow, he squinted up at Squall. "... but I would rather not talk to your crotch."

        Blinking, Squall glanced down between them. With a grunt, he took a step back. Squall shook his head, his chestnut hair drifting across his face, giving the illusion of a slight grin on his lips. Illusion though it was, it remained as Squall stepped around Seifer and sat casually beside him on his bed.

        "Better?" Squall grumbled. Yet, what little Seifer could see through all that hair, the grin had become an airy smirk. 

        "Much." Seifer rasped, his throat gone dry. 

        He swallowed, pressing his sweaty hands to his pounding head. As he licked his lips, attempting to wet his mouth enough to prevent his tongue from sticking to it, he realized: He hadn't been. Not then. Not at first.

        Another swallow and he turned to Squall. "I wasn't dehydrated or even terribly thirsty, or hungry," he stated. 

        Squall lifted his face and quirked a brow at him. Definitely Squall's 'What the fuck?' look. Finally, one he recognized.

        "... so only a few hours passed since Timber, maybe four or five at the most." 

        "Because you weren't hungry?" Leaning slightly away from him, Squall canted his head and stared at him with incredulous ocean-blue eyes. 
    
         Squall's 'What the fuck...' look slipped into 'Almasy, you're a fucking lunatic.' Another one he recognized. Hell, he should; He'd seen it often enough. Besides, after much dedication in requiring if of Squall, it had been uniquely created just for him. An accomplishment he was well and duly proud of.

        Seifer replied, finding his grin. "I am a growing boy!" 

        Squall snorted, shaking his head. "I noticed. But what..."

        "I ate on the train from Balamb. Figured might as well keep my energy up if I was going to save your sorry asses."

        "Whatever..." Squall rolled his eyes.

        "So, see, only a few hours."

        "Seifer." Squall's gaze softened as he held his. Strangely, it felt... nice. Several times over the years he and Squall had similar moments. Moments where whatever it was they were to each other -- rivals, classmates,... friends -- suddenly surfaced. Moments where he could almost swear Squall actually did care. Moments that passed too quickly. 

        Squall turned away, rubbing his forehead with his palm. His other arm snaked over his stomach in a half self-hug. "Go on," he said quietly. "What else do you remember?"

        Staring at his bare toes, Seifer's arms wrapped unconsciously around his own stomach to still a weird flutter. He took a deep breath. "I... I don't know."

        Squall was quiet beside him, waiting.

        "I just remember waking up in that wasteland. I was..." He paused. No way was he admitting he had been scared. Even though he had been. It wasn't important to figuring out any of what happened, anyway.

        "I was ... concerned I had lost Hyperion, then I found it nearby, a bit scuffed up and dirty, but in good condition otherwise. Besides the clothes on my back and Hyperion I had squat else. No water. No food. No fucking clue where I was or a way to find out. It fucking sucked!" 

        Seifer frowned. "And it didn't help that when I finally did come across other people they were fucking loony!"

        With a snort, Squall mumbled something Seifer couldn't quite hear properly. He glanced over at the brunet whose face was suspiciously too expressionless. Seifer's eyes narrowed as he watched Squall warily. 

        "Also," he continued, scowling. "I looked like I had been in some sort of fight, but I don't remember one. Pisses me off too..." 

        He really hated kicking someone's ass but not remembering doing it. Kinda made it a bit pointless. He missed out on the fun and what he might have learned. Plus just the raw energy of battle singing through him was exhilarating. 

        His frustrated scowl melted into a smirk. "... although I'd love to see the condition I left the other guy in." 

        Squall coughed, like he had breathed wrong, and shifted uncomfortably beside him.

        "You okay?" Seifer asked reaching over to slap Squall on the back.

        Slightly pale, Squall nodded. "Continue."

        "Well..." The leather of Squall's jacket was warm as Seifer's hand absently rubbed the younger boy's back in slow circles. He could clearly remember the trek through the wasteland to Balamb. He could clearly remember his breaking out of detention to rush off and save Squall. Anything in-between: nothing. Zip. And fuck it if he would go to that painful, dark place again. 

        He shivered. 

        "... Well, other than a detailed synopsis of how I used my superior charms and skills at diplomacy to get from there to here, there's not much to tell."

        Squall snickered. "I'll have to ask my father if there's a trail of bodies from Esthar to Balamb. Your 'diplomacy' is about as subtle and 'skilled' as mine."

        "Hey! I'll have you kno-..." His hand on Squall's back stilled. "Wait a sec, did you say your 'father'?"

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(End Part 5)
 

More Author's notes:This was an interesting, although complex and difficult, chapter to write. At first I felt I had lost some of the tone of previous chapters and hope I was able to recapture it. It took a bit of it's own direction near the middle. Initially most the conversation/dialogue was light-hearted. And then out of nowhere Seifer went all dark and moody, bringing out the pained non-memories. I like this version much better than the one I intended.

Also, there's so much going on with Squall I needed to express but needed to express properly and Squall-like as well as subtly. Ironically, once I started writing Second Chances, instead of relieving some of the pressure of portraying Squall, it increased it. <shrug> 

Plus, Squall is being an outrageous flirt (by Squall standards) in this chapter and there was a careful balance I  tried keep in Squall being very much 'Squall' while he was being flirty, as well as concerned and caring. Thankfully he's dealing with Seifer, so the dynamic and foundation is already there. (Although if it wasn't Seifer, I'd have no reason to worry about it or bother writing it. <grin>)

Hope you are enjoying the story and there is more to come. 

And remember, please let me know what you think so far.
neemeister@cox.net