Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Living with Heart ❯ Living with Heart ( Chapter 12 )

Living with Heart

Act XI

Squall relaxed against the soft couch. He hadn't moved since Laguna's departure, almost as if the President might not find him so he didn't stay in place like some well-behaved pet. He felt pathetic, as if he were truly some animal pining for its master.

Yet, he could not bring himself to leave the couch. He sat and contemplated his options, all the while crossing his fingers and hoping Laguna returned without the intention to toss his ass to the streets.

If he were asked to leave, he could always choose to not go back to Balamb. But, where would he go and what would he do? His face was easily recognizable, and there stood a good chance that Cid wouldn't let him go. He was a huge source of money and fame for Garden, something the Headmaster needed with Norg gone.

As much as Squall disliked the manner of work he did, he loved to fight. He'd been complacent for a number of reasons, many of which he didn't understand. He'd become used to seducing and exploiting key figures, as well as the more direct approach of simply sleeping with them for money. It wasn't necessarily easy to do, but he was good at it, just like he was good at wielding his gunblade. He'd always seen it as his job as SeeD, or rather training as a cadet.

If he wasn't SeeD, then what was he? All his life, be it the years of dealing with Norg's repugnant pleasures or his actual classes of combat training, he'd worked toward becoming SeeD. Granted, he'd always assumed his life would turn out differently, but he'd still earned his place among the elite mercenaries ranks. If he wasn't SeeD, then what was he?

The war was probably the best time of his entire life. Horrible as it might make him for feeling that way, it was true. The threat Ultimecia presented had run Cid off and left him in charge of his own life. He'd been given the opportunity to pick his blade up and fight to his heart's content.

Squall recalled how Quistis and the others had chastised him for going off on his own when they were too tired to fight any more. It was as if he'd been a child who discovered the joys of climbing trees. Each tall tree with its base branches out of arms reach was a challenge he wanted to overcome, knowing that each time he slew a monster he was becoming stronger and climbing higher.

And then the war ended. It had been as if the top branch he'd stood upon had snapped, sending him to the ground once more with the pain of knowing what the view was like from above the thick canopy. It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't known what it truly meant to be a fighter and how good it felt to slash Lionheart with such power and precision that only came with toiling months of practice.

Seifer was right, even if he longed to be a regular SeeD, his life at Garden would be no different than if he left. He'd always harbored hope for change, but it wasn't clear that it was never going to come until recently.

If Laguna turned him away, he couldn't blame the man. But, where would he go? The money he'd earned as Commander had been a ridiculous amount. No mercenary could spend such an exorbitant amount of gil. He had a percentage of his salary directed into his own account while recycling the rest back into Garden. He certainly hadn't expected to be needing the money he'd set aside, but thought it might be useful if Garden ever hit any rough spots, or perhaps for Trabia or the orphanage.

He had the financial means to start a new life, but did he have the ability to do so? What would he do? He was almost seventeen, not an adult yet by Balamb's law. Being a Balamb citizen meant that Cid was his legal guardian for the next several weeks. He might be able to keep off the Headmaster's radar for that time. He knew how to move about without being noticed and he could survive on next to nothing outside of residential areas.

Perhaps he should pack his bags now, in case Laguna demanded he leave instantly.

Squall shook his head, realizing that his train of thought was based on the assumptions that the longhaired President was going to reject him. Hadn't the older man confessed feelings of love for him? Given the gravity of their relationship, it surely meant something greater than past misdoings.

Why the hell did he feel so much for the blundering klutz? The man's touch made him shiver in pleasure, never disgust. Those greenish eyes caused his heart to race, raking his form with both lust and love. The man who'd initially wanted nothing but the opportunity to be around him, took greater measures to make him happy than anyone had ever done before.

There was so much that was similar about his experience with Laguna that was like that of previous instances with men who'd fallen in love with his body. Yet, it was entirely different. It was such an intense and new experience that he'd become immediately attached to it. He was so endeared and fond of the older man that he'd chosen not to forget about it, even though that meant remembering everything else.

In Ellone's dreams, he'd truly felt loathing for Laguna Loire. Every aspect about the native Galbadian had annoyed him. The man's nervous and anxious attitude around women, the way he took his friends for granted, his inability to read a map properly. Perhaps the most annoying quality had been the President's dream of becoming a reporter and traveling the world.

To Squall, it had been shocking. Laguna had been a Galbadian soldier. So, to then learn that this man had dreams other than to be a mercenary had felt like a slap in the face. He had no dreams but the life he was already leading, no hopes but to aspire to the rank of SeeD, which he'd already accomplished at that point.

Maybe it was misguided jealousy he'd felt. Perhaps he'd been envious of the raven haired soldier's ability to be so open and caring while also being a decent fighter, and even more envious for the man's ability to continue climbing each branch without ever worrying about what would happen if a branch broke.

Getting to know the President more had soothed his angry feelings. He'd learned that Laguna Loire was so much more than what he'd seen in his dreams. And that caring warmth was irresistible, consequences damned.

For the briefest of moments, Squall had allowed himself to believe that everything was going to work out fine. When he'd fallen asleep with the older man's warm body beside him, he'd felt confident in his choice to do what he wanted for once, to stay in Esthar with his father.

But, like a moth to a flame, he was drawn into something he couldn't resist but that would inevitably burn him. He was truly a weak man to become addicted to every gentle caress.

It was too much to hope for. His years of building icy walls failed him. The number one rule was to not become emotionally involved, and he'd broken it on several levels. Aside from caring about hurting Laguna, he'd become selfish and began to care about his own feelings and wants. The second rule was to forget about personal desires and focus on his partner.

Somewhere deep inside was the Ice Prince he knew so well, the part of him that simply disregarded emotion and feeling. He wished he could find that part of himself again.

Slowly, as the minutes added up, Squall sank to his side. Lying on the cushions, bare of shirt, he curled up and continued to think. His mind was left to brood over every aspect of his current situation, wondering if he'd been a fool to leave himself so open to this man he'd come to hold affection for, or if it was simply human nature to keep striving for some token of love.

The sudden opening of the door and silence-shattering slam of it shutting drove panic into Squall. His heart beat both from being startled and from the pending judgment about to be bestowed.

Slowly uncurling, he sat up to better assess the situation.

“Squall,” Laguna called from within the bedroom.

Blinking in momentary confusion, the young man realized the President had walked right past him without seeing him on the couch.

“Squall!” Laguna all but shouted at the top of his lungs, desperate for an answer and the relief that the boy was nearby. He'd run from the office, getting lost twice until his guard had kindly realized his predicament and lead the way.

“Out here,” Squall said just loud enough for the older man to hear. While he heard desperation in the raven-haired man's voice, it was likely the desperation to have him refute what Kiros had said.

“Squall,” the longhaired President whispered heavily as his form came into view, now standing just outside the open bedroom door. Looking worse for the wear, the wrinkled shirt and pants were now accompanied by a blanched expression of worry. The fine lines of age seemed more pronounced.

Though frantic to find the boy, Laguna just stood as if frozen. Staring into slightly guarded stormy blue eyes, the President was reminded that Squall never seemed to betray any aspect of the horrible past Kiros had told him about.

Where was the shying fear of his touch, the touch of yet another man come to use him? Where was the sneer of disgust while they had sex? Was Squall that good of an actor, or did he dare believe that Squall truly loved him unlike the other bastards who'd wanted the former Commander for purely physical reasons?

Swallowing down rising panic, Squall mastered himself and kept his impassive expression in place. If Laguna now hated him, he wouldn't appear hurt or worried about the total chaos his life would be thrown into.

As much as Squall didn't want to tip his hand and show his cards on the off chance that Kiros hadn't said anything, the silence was too much for even him to take. He needed to know which way this was going to go. “Kiros told you?” he questioned evenly, almost a statement.

Laguna didn't reply. Standing stock still, he stared intently, as if trying to see past events in those deep eyes that seemed more guarded than moments ago. What he wouldn't give to read the boy's thoughts.

Suddenly realizing that Squall didn't appear the least bit distraught over any of it, Laguna became overwhelmed by his newfound knowledge. He'd been the one to condemn his son to such a fate, and then he gone and slept with the boy just like all those other men.

Despite everything he'd done to Squall, the brunet had come to love him, or at least begin to care for him. He'd been nothing but a wretch and a bastard, yet Squall accepted him as if none of it meant anything.

A thought suddenly occurred to the President. Eyes widening, he stared in shock. “That's what you wanted to forget, isn't it? You wanted to forget about everything that had been done to you?”

Squall didn't reply. He was wary that his answer might hurt Laguna either way, if he lied or told the truth.

Jaw clenching tightly, the muscle flexing, the President fought burning tears. Swallowing thickly, feeling his grip on calmness and rationality slipping, he reiterated, “You were okay when you couldn't remember every fucking bastard that touched you… but you chose not to forget so that you could be with me!”

Squall's eyes widened at the accusatory tone the older man used. Was Laguna yelling at him or berating himself? Searching those expressive hazel green eyes and seeing the anguish within, Squall assured, “I chose what was most important.”

“Gods,” Laguna whispered in pain. A sob suddenly shook his frame, escaping through barely parted lips. Was there no limit to the ways he'd crossed his own son? Leaving the boy behind in the first of many acts of abandonment and carrying on with his merry lifestyle whilst the pale beauty lead of life of deceit and whoring… such deeds could never be forgiven.

“Laguna?” Squall said in concern. Moving over the back of the couch, he stalked closer.

It was obvious that the older man wasn't hurt, at least not that the brunet could see. The thought of a stroke or heart attack was dismissed given that Laguna was only forty-seven and in excellent health.

Grasping the man's shaking shoulders, Squall retracted his hands on the chance that Laguna was crying over what he'd done.

Taking a step back, he crouched and regarded the President in silent question.

“I'm so sorry,” Laguna managed.

Frowning, Squall considered the older man's meaning and found the apology confusing. He was on the verge of asking the man why, but felt it was too obvious to bother with. He didn't like to waste time by asking pointless questions. “Stop crying,” he said in light reprimand, feeling thrown by the presence of tears.

Choking up, Laguna fought the urge to continue sobbing. “I'm sorry,” he said again. A garbled mix of this phrase being stumbled over while his chest convulsed, the meaning impressed over and over like some mantra.

“It's fine,” Squall assured. “It's not your fault, nothing is your fault.” Squall couldn't be certain exactly what Laguna was so upset over, or at least how much the man knew.

Leaning against the wall beside the doorframe, Laguna reached out and grabbed the crouching boy. Pulling the smaller form into his arms, he continued to sob while desperately hugging his son. “Hyne forgive me, I'm so sorry for everything you've been through. I love you so much. I'd never hurt you like that. If I'd known… if I'd only known.”

Awkwardly, Squall remained lax in Laguna's hold. Closing his eyes, he sighed in relief. It was safe to assume that Laguna wasn't angry with him or considering breaking all ties with him.

Laguna had less control on his emotions than anyone else Squall had ever known, including Rinoa. The kindhearted President expressed everything openly, apparently unable to use the floodgate mechanism that prevented such tearful moments as this.

Under different circumstances, it was a quality that Squall found appealing. He never had to guess what the man was thinking or worry about secrets and lies.

After several minutes, when Squall realized Laguna had no intention of letting him go, he squirmed to find a more comfortable position. Leaning flush against the man's chest, Squall shifted to rest on his bottom rather than folded legs. With the President's legs on either side of him, bent at the knee, he remained complacent for a while longer.

Wearing himself out quickly, Laguna calmed down and settled for habitual petting and stroking. His hands kept the younger man's head pressed closely while running gentle fingers through silky chestnut hair. His other arm wrapped around the slim torso and soothed up and down while rubbing a bare back.

Though the touches grew redundant, Laguna needed the contact for the assurance that it was real and that he had the boy in his arms.

“What did Kiros tell you?” Squall murmured at length, when the minutes felt like hours and he could no longer feel his ass and his left foot tingled after falling asleep.

“Shh,” Laguna hushed in reply, craning his neck down to press a firm kiss to the boy's head.

“Laguna,” Squall spoke more firmly, defying his order for silence with a certain irony of trying to speak and instigate a conversation. “What did Kiros tell you?” he pressed again.

“I'm so sorry,” the raven-haired man whispered again, once more resuming gentle rocking motion that had died down some time ago.

Frowning in disapproval, Squall bristled to move away. The firm hold was restricting, seeming to tighten at his attempts. “I don't need your pity. Stop saying you're sorry for something that had nothing to do with you,” the brunet bit out tersely, having little patience for a lover that acted like a baby.

Blinking several times, sharp awareness seemed to return to the older man's eyes. “I left you with the Kramers, in the care of those people. I could have come and taken you away at any time, or even checked up on you. I lived as if you didn't exist, while you existed in misery.”

Growing angry, Squall struggled to break away. Eventually gaining the distance he was trying to place between them, he glared harshly at his father.

“My life is my own, not some accident or fault of another. It has nothing to do with you, so don't shed tears over it and don't apologize for it.”

“Squall,” Laguna breathed out the name as he raised a hand to cup a pale cheek.

Squall knocked the older man's hand away. He'd rather be thrown out in disgust and anger rather than carry on while Laguna felt pity for him. Backing away further, he continued to glare coldly at the President. “Stop it,” he ordered.

Brows drawn in anguish, Laguna regarded the brunet with a mixture of sorrow and worry.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Squall half shouted.

“Like what?” Laguna questioned in alarm, his worry and sorrow now joined with the fear of running Squall off.

“Like you pity me. I had a choice in it, so stop looking at me like some victim.”

In saddened disbelief, Laguna questioned, “You were so young, what choice could you…” he trailed off as another sob over took him.

“No one ever held a gun to my head. I was here with you. Tell me if it seemed like I was being forced to have sex with you.”

Hazel green eyes widened in disbelief. Shaking his head, raven strands tossed about in a long curtain. “No, you were just following orders at first.”

“Cid never ordered me to sleep with you,” Squall assured. “That just happened and I took advantage of it. I was trained to do it, just like fighting. I follow orders and do what is necessary to get the job done, that's what SeeD do.”

In that moment, Laguna found yet another reason to curse the existence of sorceresses. SeeD were mercenaries trained for the purposes of keeping out of hand sorceresses under control. Squall was a part of an organization that would never have existed if evil creatures like Adel hadn't lived.

Pout lips formed a thin line as Squall frowned. As much as he had come to enjoy Laguna's company, every touch and soft kiss, he would not stay with the man if he were to be pitied.

“I love you,” the longhaired man spoke solemnly. “You know I'm not like them, that I'd never do anything I thought you didn't want.”

With a small nod, Squall accepted those words as truth. “How things have turned out,” the brunet began, wondering if there was room for belief after so many indistinguishable lies, “it's real… it isn't following orders when I stay with you.”

Laguna gave a soft laugh at the idea that Squall could still be following orders. The President understood the boy's situation and that staying with him was in no way beneficial to anyone. The only benefit was that they could stay together as lovers, but even that would prove problematic beyond the grief would receive over Squall leaving Balamb Garden.

Standing straight, Squall stretch a bit. “I'm tired,” he said evenly while gazing down expectantly.

Concern filled Laguna. “Squall, perhaps we shouldn't…” the President trailed off for lack of proper wording. It suddenly seemed wrong to touch Squall in any way that implied something sexual. It wasn't that he didn't find the boy as desirable as before, but knowing what he now knew, he wasn't sure he could be intimate so soon.

Eyes averted, Squall stared at the rug in a downtrodden manner, trepidation filling him. Now that Laguna knew just how used he was, he wasn't so appealing. He couldn't exactly blame the man, but he'd hoped it wouldn't have been an issue. “It's fine,” Squall said quietly. Moving around Laguna's sitting form, he made to walk into the bedroom. Before he past through the doorway, he mumbled, “I wouldn't want to touch me either.”

There was a big difference between the touch that came from consoling and the touch that came from a lover. Squall wondered if Laguna might just need some time to digest everything.

It took Laguna several moments to comprehend the boy's words. A heavy wave of guilt washed over him. That hadn't been what he meant at all.

Scrambling to his feet, the raven-haired man rushed to follow the brunet. Inside the bedroom, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around the younger man.

“That isn't what I meant. I could never feel that way about you,” the President impressed firmly, his voice flowing with unexpressed emotion. His guilty pleasure at the moment was the feel of Squall's back against his chest. He was truly beginning to believe that their shared DNA meant their bodies fit together perfectly.

Shaking away his wayward thoughts, Laguna spoke further, “I was afraid it'd be too much for you. I won't do anything you don't want me to, never for any reason. If you want to sleep alone, I'll leave. If you never want me to touch you again, I won't. Just say the word and I'll never look at you again.”

Taken aback for a moment, Squall considered Laguna's meaning. Shaking his head to refute the man's profession, he almost laughed at the extent of kindness this President continually showed. Could one person harbor so much good will?

Before replying, Squall considered the depth of meaning. He'd already experienced for himself just how true Laguna's words were. The older man managed to curb every action to his liking even in midst of sex, which was something only firm resolution could allow for.

“I want you to leave my past alone. It was only a few weeks ago, but it's in the past now. I want you to be my lover, not my caretaker. Don't fret like you're my father.”

Reluctantly, Laguna complied. “Done,” he said at length, still feeling as though he had unspent grief for what the boy had been through.

Squall pulled away, released from the hold as soon as the older man realized it was his wish. Turning to meet eyes with Laguna, he warned, “I can be your son or your lover, but I can't be both.”

Laguna stared in thought, recalling how similar a warning Kiros had given. “And I can be your father or your lover, which would you rather?”

Stormy blue eyes widened. Searching the man's face before him, Squall was further shocked to conclude that Laguna was being serious. It was like the assurance that he could get away from it all and never submit to anyone's touch again. But, what the older man didn't seem to understand was that he'd stopped wishing for a father long ago. There was also the small little factor of Laguna's touch being more than welcome.

“I don't need a parent,” the brunet answered after consideration. This would be the last conflict over their relation. After this, there would be no more consideration of the fact.

Laguna bit his bottom lip, as if the boy's habit were contagious. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to kiss Squall, but he refrained from doing so. “I would love you no matter what.”

Squall didn't respond. He was waiting for Laguna's answer to his still standing question.

“I want a lover,” the President whispered. He'd lived for so many years without anyone in his life that he could consider as dear to him as Squall had become. He never realized how much was missing until recently.

With that answer, Squall leaned in and pressed his lips against Laguna's. Working their lips together, he had the feeling that the immediate response was more instinctual than conscious. However, after a brief delay the older man returned his action ten fold, heatedly pulling him closer and meshing their lips together.

With a lick of his tongue, Squall sought to deepen it, finding that physical pleasure was once more a great remedy for the heavy weight of recent events.

Laguna met the seeking tongue with his own wet appendage. As Squall explored his mouth, his heart raced in excitement. His hands stroked the smooth flesh along slim hips, almost massaging as he kept his hold to press firmly against that lithe body. It was difficult to comply with the boy's wishes for leaving matters alone, but he found his mind swept clean as he was consumed in the heated exchange.

The pair stumbled towards the bed, making it there too soon and falling over on top of it.

Breaking away after a moment, Laguna regarded swirling grey-blue eyes. As furtive hands began to work on unbuttoning his shirt, his mind recalled his initial hesitancy to continue his involvement with Squall. “Tonight, can we just sleep together?” he questioned, hoping he wasn't taken the wrong way.

Squall stared in question, not quite realizing what the man meant until he took the meaning literal. Stilling his hands, he regarded Laguna's gentle features for a moment. He could see the desire in hazel green eyes, knowing the man was certainly ready to screw him if he asked, but there was also a deep concern. “You know I want it,” he said.

“I know,” Laguna assured. Hands cupping the boy's pretty face, he stroked his thumbs across pale cheeks while leaning down and pressing his lips against Squall's. “Just for tonight. I want to hold you, but not out of pity… I love you so much, I just want to hold you.”

Squall was helpless at the moment. He'd have agreed to do anything, finding the man's doting nature too appealing to refuse. He would become terribly spoiled if he kept it up, but somehow he didn't care.

Nodding, Squall conceded to Laguna's request.

Once again under the covers and settled in for bed, assured that there would be no such disturbances as a concerned friend dragging Squall away, Laguna held the brunet close. When his lips trailed over every inch of the boy within reach, it became difficult to not initiate passionate exchanges.

As Laguna shifted to rest more atop Squall than beside, delving his tongue into that wet mouth, he realized how difficult just sleeping was. It was near impossible to keep his hands from roaming, and even more so not to kiss that plush mouth. However, as they settled in once more and the brunet gave a soft yawn, he restrained himself.

Drifting for a long time, perhaps an hour, Laguna found he was tired but sleep would not come. Squall had fallen under already, and that was what caused his wakeful predicament. He couldn't tear his eyes from the boy's sleeping face, as if it were his duty to guard Squall's slumber.

It was well into the next day, four in the morning, but Laguna never shut his eyes longer than a couple minutes. His mind thought about what Kiros had told him and about what Squall had told him. Together, it was like being told the world was ending soon but to not worry about.

However, Laguna realized that it would have been far worse to carry on without knowing the truth. If months went by without his knowing, it would have been worse. He was determined to care for Squall and never let anything bad happen again.

The solemn and quiet boy that was so beautiful in his arms, safely sleeping where he could watch and make sure nothing happened. Later, he'd take Squall for another ride. They'd go farther and spend as much time as the brunet wanted out there. He should have already gone again, knowing that the boy had quite enjoyed it the first time.

And, he'd deal with Cid. Squall would never go back to Balamb. The former Commander was going to stay with him, no matter what.

TBC…