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Snow Drift	By : Resting-Madness Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male > Irvine/Squall Views: 970 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own anything involving final fantasy 8, nor do I make money from this fanfiction. The only thing that's mine is the take on a plot that's been done by just about everyone.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Squall finished relieving himself in the toilet; he slowly washed his hands shaking them off into the sink before drying them on the hand-towel hanging from the bar on the wall beside him. Heading back into the bedroom, he looked down at the bed. It's indented where he's been lying since April; it's now July. Climbing into bed he stretches his legs out with a sullen sigh. Squall was sure that another round of tears would be coming on, if it weren't for the fact that he was all cried out; it's a wonder the backs of his eyelids aren't getting scraped by his dry eyes when he blinks.
Squall Leonhart does not grieve well. Proof of this, Ellone being taken from the orphanage when he was a young child; he stood outside every day, whatever the weather, waiting for her to come back. He was sure that she'd want to see him the moment she did. He could not spare a second in the stone home messing around with the other kids and their games, because he might miss her return, and Ellone's heart would be broken in two if she arrived without seeing that he'd waited for her.
That's the way Squall felt about things deep down. He may have become a hard-ass to some, but to those he cares about... they know it's just a shell he uses to protect himself from making a fool of himself, by getting worked up from lost attachments. It was the same story with Rinoa when they'd been at Galbadia, and she went into a coma-like state because a Sorceress transferred her powers into her; Rinoa's body could not take the changes and she'd gone into a deep sleep.
It was because of that, that the weird feelings for her deluded into this relationship that he didn't even want; it was just strange to have become attached to someone whom you've spent many months, that has become a friend to almost a sister and she's suddenly altered. It was because of those thoughts and feelings that Squall was so frazzled when the Esthar soldiers came to seal her new abilities away - he couldn't even remember her voice!
He wanted to hear all the weird, un-thought out things the girl had to say, he wanted to see her and let her know that he now cared about her as he did the others. Thankfully, Rinoa came back with them when they freed her. But it was strange, once she came back his feelings started to fade and he saw her as a friend and nothing more.
Even Seifer's disappearance had effected him - he'd never admit it, but he was sure his rival was dead, and because of that he blew up on everyone when they were talking about him like he was nothing but a forgettable memory.
He imagined he'd blow up on the others, if they planned on speaking about Irvine that way. Which is why he could not attend the funeral; he can't deal with everyone's memories driving the word 'death' further into his picture of a very alive Irvine. But for all the good its done, because look at him now. He's been in his dorm since that day in April; a zombie of his former self, not that he was all that much alive to some people. But to his friends, Squall may as well have dropped off the face of the earth.
He shifts his hips when feeling a spring poking him on the butt. It amazed him how worn the mattress has gotten from him simply laying on it - - granted it's all the time now, instead of just at night when he's ready for bed, but still, he's not all that heavy. Loss must be adding weight to him; because since accepting his boyfriend's death, food has scarcely found its way into his mouth; most of his movement has been going to the use of the bathroom and little more.
The others have been coming by; calling through the door; trying their hardest to verbally coax him out of the room and to not become a hermit. He refused to go - actually, he refused to speak at all. So they've just been calling to him. When realizing they would not receive an answer, they'd give up and go away just to try again the next week. But it remained the same situation each time.
Squall does not grieve well and, honestly, he didn't see how people could. He and Irvine - though only having been dating for two years, became very close. He would tell Irvine things he's never told anyone - or has ever wanted to - - especially when the other person is conscious to hear him.
Irvine told him about the same, and kept about the same as Squall had kept. They really fit each other in some ways. If he had to pick a landslide difference, it would be their speaking habits; Irvine was quiet because he wanted to be quiet, there was never a hidden motive - - that Squall was aware of. And, when he wanted, he was talkative and funny, nearly all the time around others; whereas he, Squall, is quiet with not much to say even when he does have something that he wants to say. And it is very much for a reason. Squall is not good with self-confidence that anyone is interested in what he has to say. The real Squall Leonhart, anyway. Commander terms are different.
Being with Irvime was certainly different. Squall wondered many times if the sniper had always liked him, but never said anything about it? And if he'd said anything about it in their past, why didn't he repeat it when he found out that they had lost their memories? Had he changed his mind? Did Irvine hope that it would just come back to him as everything else gradually has? It hadn't; and he was genuinely shocked when Irvine had decided to ask him out two years ago.
His cellphone rang, rumbling on the top of the desk; rumbling hard enough to make it bounce around. He shifts his position on the bed, and reached over for the device, missing contact as it vibrated away from him. He to stand to get it, sitting back down once its in his hand. Flipping it open he's not surprised at the name flashing on the small screen. Irvine (gun-nut). He never changed it once he'd acquired his number.
"Hey Squall. The weather is perfect, the sun is shining; let's rent a boat and sail out a bit. We can have a picnic on the water; I'll bring my acoustic to play for you - I might even sing a little."
Squall smiled faintly hearing that. Irvine's been saying he'd whip out his singing chops for ages, and he chickened-out every time with some lame excuse for each reason why he couldn't or wouldn't. His favorite being that his throat had dried out because the air was too dry.
With a voice as thick as a lake frozen solid, he replied. "I'll be there, and I'll bring something to drink since you always forget." Pressing 'send' he gripped his phone tightly; his forehead dropped down onto his folded forearms resting upon his knees.
Irvine knew how easily embarrassed he could get over some things, so anytime he wanted to go out on a date he would send him a pre-recorded message so that no one but Squall would hear it or know of it. It was like having their own little world when they made dates, he loved it; however, sometimes he'd have to remind Irvine about the date. Which is why he'd begun replying to them. He could make the message in September but have it sent to Squall in December, or some time. Receiving messages was also what he'd been doing since April; he wasn't about to miss a chance to hear his love's voice again, and secretly... secretly he would go out on the dates.
He wouldn't physically go, of course not, but mentally he was there. Eyes closed, a warm smile on his face, and he would let himself go. Irvine once said that a sharpshooter is a loner by nature, but he loved that the lone wolf wanted him - almost needed him at times. And other times, you'd think they were just friends, and not close friends at that. It would leave him seeking Irvine just as much as he was sought.
But he did wish it would get easier; he wished the pain in his chest would become less; that his eyes wouldn't hurt so much from crying - he hasn't cried since he was a child, not a full-blown cry, anyway, and it gave him nasty headaches for hours. However, his eyes wouldn't let up. It was as if all the held in tears from his life had just decided it was a fine time to get out of that bottle he's stored his emotions into.
'Hn. Even if I did lose the sad part of mourning Irvine, my body would continue to go through the loss; I may have forgotten about Ellone because of the use of G.F.'s, but my locked away memories came back to me as dreams so that I could continue to be weighed down by missing her.' He looked over at the window when voices are heard in a slough. 'What day is it?' An absent wonder. Setting his phone down on the windowsill, Squall got off the bed intending to make it up, when the door called his attention.
"Squall! It's me, Zell!" He called through the door. "Can... Can I come in if you're not coming out? Please?"
Shoulders slumped in defeat from the sad sound in his friend's voice. Maybe he should stop isolating himself from everyone? Irvine isn't going to come back just because he's showing him how sad his loss has made him. Walking over to the door he unlocked it, sliding it open for the visitor.
Shocked and relieved, since he thought this would only end in failure, Zell walked into the room; his face scrunched up in displeasure of the musty, sleepy smell in the air. "Umm, not to be rude, but, when was the last time you opened the window for some fresh air?" He walked over to said window tugging the blinds up, then lifting the blockage of relief.
Sitting back down on his bed, Squall says tightly. "That's really polite of you."
"Hey, just keeping it honest." Pulling out the seat at Squall's desk; Zell sat and leaned over a bit so that his elbows are down at his knees, hands clasped together. "Squall, we're all really worried about you. And we think that maybe you should go to therapy..."
"Excuse me?" Because that was not what he had expected to hear. Hangout, meals, Triad, movies.. But therapy?!
"You haven't been out of this room since April and it's July now."
'July?!' Squall wondered why he hadn't felt the heat of summer coming into his room. Maybe that's why it smells in here; he's been blissfully unaware of the changing seasons, and has continued wearing sweat clothes.
"We know that Irvine meant a lot to you, he meant a lot to all of us - - we feel his absence." His eyes scrunch to a bitter glare when his, disgruntled, friend scoffs. "We do. ...But we're all trying to move on and be happy. It's what Irvine would want."
"What Irvine would want is to not be dead." He hissed.
Waving his hands defensively, he tries another approach. "In his absence... he would want his friends happy - isn't that what you would want if you were gone?"
"I don't know."
"See, there you go! Squall, it's important that you be around. You... we're all really scared that you might do something to harm yourself."
Squall cocked an eyebrow at that. Was he really such a mental case when he lost someone? He'd never thought about hurting himself even once in all the time he's been spirited away in his room. His friends are just being overly dramatic. Hn. Not that he's one to talk - its July!
"So, please... either you come out of this funk you're living in now... Or you go see a therapist to cope with grieving."
Squall looked into Zell's solemn gaze. He's never seen the blond this serious since the war days, and that was a rare few times, as well; with a sigh, he gestured for Zell to get on with what he wants. "What do you wanna do?"
Smiling, he stood up; he was quite happy to have his personality type. Because the times he shows he means business, the results are usually well in his favor. "Glad you're back! First we're gonna - well, first you should shower and change, and then come outside with me for some good healthy activity." He made a gesture that looked to Squall like he planned to vice grip him with one arm and give him a noogie. "What d'ya say?"
"Fine. But get out."
"So long as you promise not to lock the door to continue brooding."
Squall smirked in guilt of being known so well sometimes. "Fine. I won't lock you out."
"Good. See you when you're done." He exited the room, closing the door after him.
Squall dropped his head, giving it a light shake as he snickered. "July... I do not grieve well."
Walking into the bathroom he started the shower, running his finger over the temperature bar until the green blocks go from yellow to red, then he pressed the button for the shower watching and waiting for the spray of water to steam up the bathroom.
Removing his shirt then pants - with the boxers attached as the jeans travel down his legs to pool at his ankles. Stepping out of them he kicked them away from the shower area then stepped inside under the hot spray. Even as he washed quickly he can feel invisible hands, belonging to Irvine, drifting over his body as if he was the foggy steam surrounding him. He tilted his head back into the touch along his neck; beneath the water he can almost swear its being kissed gently in the same way the water is rushing over his jugular and collar bone.
Those ghostly hands join his own in his hair, scrubbing water into it madly to loosen the accumulated dirt and oil. Adding shampoo he cleanses himself from the top to down; blushing faintly as his hands would go over the imaginary hands of his love's - at least they did in his mind. He's done this a few times - masturbation. He hardly thought it counted when he was sure the person touching was very much real, and he never physically touched himself in the process of it.
He let out a sigh as the soapy rag caressed his sleepy muscles awake. By the time the final clumps of filthy suds were cleared from his body he had to kneel down to catch his breath, both from the overheated bathroom; mostly the images that played in his mind. Turning off the water, he exited the bathroom wrapped waist down in a towel. Freed from the haze, he remembered suddenly that Zell was standing outside waiting for him. Checking the alarm clock on his desk he sees that only fifteen minutes has gone by.
Scrubbing the towel over his body he allowed a little moisture in his hair since he and Zell will be going outdoors anyway, it might actually help to keep him cool. He knows how Balamb summers can be just as harsh as Balamb winters at times. Dressing in a red fitted shirt and blue boxers and dark blue jeans he opened the door nearly bumping into Zell in his departure as the martial artist was positioned before the door doing push-ups.
Clearing his throat he nudges the blond athlete on the side with the tip of his sneakered foot. "Come on."
"Whoa!" He straightens up to standing. "Seifer usually takes forty five minutes to get showered and dressed."
Squall shrugged receiving a quaint blush from the blond.
"O-okay, let's move out." He latched onto the T-Board he brought over with him then starts away with pep in his step. He can't believe Squall is really getting out of that room. Maybe he can finally get him to stop moping and come around, so that he isn't so sad anymore. "Where do you wanna go? I brought my board with me, maybe we could do some of that. Do you know how?"
"No."
"That's okay, I'll teach you." Humming now, the fellow childhood friend makes a turn towards the exit.
Squall followed silently, arms crossed over his chest. He was having severe second thoughts. T-Boarding! Zell couldn't be serious about that. But as they made it outside of the building he can tell that the athletic blond is very serious.
"It's very simple, you just" Placing the graffiti covered board down on the grass, he then stands on it. "place it down, step on it. Grab this little handle back here, and press this button with ease."
A puff of smoke and drabble of flame produced itself under the board before it lifts from the ground hovering. Zell couldn't control a delighted laugh as he floats above the ground on the beloved mechanism.
"And its weight sensitive so all you need to do is lean in the direction that you want to go in."
He examples this by leaning forward. The board darted forward at the rider's command. Zell circled around his friend with ease, calling out cheers of freedom and excitement; he comes to a stop before Squall with a flashy spin trick that he followed up by hopping off. Squall was unimpressed, and annoyed at the staring he's getting from cadets hanging around outside.
"You want a turn? To go fast you just have to twist the handle the ignition is on." He held out the board; a big grin on his face.
Letting out a sigh of consideration he snatched the craft from his over-eager friend, placing it down on the grass. Stepping on, he can see the glee on Zell's face that he's going to do as he asked. Pressing the button the craft jumped a bit too quickly.
"Just lean." Zell instructed as though Squall might have forgotten.
Not really wanting to be in the air he leaned his weight forward and the machine darts off carrying him with it - for the most part. His feet are rocked a bit too much, and he staggers backwards hitting the ground on his butt. Hard.
Zell looked both surprised and a little like he was going to laugh. "Are you all right?" He called before dashing over.
"Stupid board. You didn't say that it was hard to stay on it."
"I never noticed."
Grunting in agitation, he stood, brushing the grass from his jeans. Retrieving the craft he steps onto it again, starting it up, only this time he leaned a little less forward and was rewarded by the board gliding smoothly forwards.
"That's the way!" Cheered Zell.
"Hmm." Turning the handle slightly, the board jerked forward before taking off for the forest.
"H-huh? Squall! Where're you going!?" He cups his hands at his mouth. "Squall! Oh man, the others are gonna kill me if he comes back with broken limbs." Darting off after the runaway, he had to duck as Squall shot out of the woods and over his head. "Ahehe, I take it he's used to it now. Wait for me! I'm gonna get my spare!" He shouted, although he doubted the fired up brunet heard a word he'd said.
The two were outside for a couple hours sailing over the grassy field of the island; the wind was refreshing against the humidity. Sweat was impossible to avoid, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been, had they simply gone for a walk. The sun was starting to go down when they decided to stop. Lying out in the grass, Squall stared thoughtfully up at the orange sky; the clouds drifting through it are a deep purple. Zell was seated beside his friend, one leg bent and the other out-stretched.
"Nice sunset." Comments the martial artist.
"Yeah."
"Hey, wanna know what's been going on lately? It's not the most life changing news you'll ever hear, but it's better than sitting in silence, right?"
"So long as I don't have to talk, sure."
"Cool." He eagerly readjusts his sitting position to a slight lean onto one arm, legs curled beside him. "Now let's see... Quistis got a invite for a date to the summer festival, by Nida - - the guy won't give up on her." He laughs to himself. "Then there's Selphie, she's pumped because she's putting the whole thing together. I gotta tell ya, the school doesn't look half bad. Not my choice of colors, but that's summer, right?"
Squall only blinked to the comment; he hadn't noticed any decorations in the school as they were leaving, although, to be fair, he was watching the back of Zell's head as he followed him out.
"Are you gonna come to the festival? You don't have to dance or anything."
"Maybe."
"I think you should - - I mean, at least do it for Selphie. She has worked so hard on it, and you know she loves you to dea-..." He had to bite his words back as they were definitely the wrong choice of words to say to someone who's grieving a lost loved one. "Anyway, Rinoa and me signed up for yoga at the gym, but we can only go in our free time. She'll be back from her mission Thursday, if you wanna ask her to the festival."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because it's a nice gesture." He grins with an air of being up to nothing. "Aaand Seifer's become a bottom now - - can you believe it!"
"I wanna see it."
Taken aback the blond asked. "See what?"
"Irvine's grave."
Zell made a small sound in the back of his throat. He really didn't think the matter would come up. He was supposed to distract him from that - hell, he thought that he had! Scratching the back of his head nervously, he cleared his throat. "Why would you wanna do that?"
"You don't have to come with me." Squall says; a far away look in his dual-colored eyes.
"I... I should go with you."
"Because I'll kill myself - tch. Don't patronize me, Zell... I just... I just wanna see it."
Zell was very unsure about that being a good idea, but he couldn't very well say: "No". It would be rude! So standing up, he brushed off the back of his shorts, then brushed off his hands before reaching out to help his mourning friend up from the grass. Squall looked at the offered hand, sitting up he took a hold of it; he didn't need it, but he could tell that maybe Zell did. Irvine was Zell's friend, it can't be easy for him having him gone either. And yet, he's holding up all right.
'That's unfair to think. I don't know Zell in his private time. But still, he can put up a better face than me.' Tapping his hand against his side he gestured with his other hand for Zell to lead the way.
"We're walking?"
"I don't see why not, it's only twenty minutes away - - we'll run, it'll go quicker." With that he took off without looking back.
"Wait for me!" He dashed off after his insane best friend. The others were going to kill him.
...
Squall looked down at his boyfriend's headstone. Kind but short words were chiseled into it: Kind and Brave, loved and loving. He will be missed. Swallowing hard, he can feel tears sting his eyes from where he was sure they had dried up. But they spilled from his eyes without fail; he dropped heavily to his knees, arms wrapping around the warm stone. "I'm sorry I didn't visit you." He managed to get out before completely falling apart with sobs and cries.
Zell stood behind Squall, unsure of what to do. Does he hold him? Or does he let him have this private moment? Choosing the former he took a few steps forward to place a hand onto his weeping best friend's shoulder; if the brunet turns around for a hug, he'll give it to him but if he doesn't... at least he knows that he's not alone.
Zell used to come to the grave site. But, gradually, he stopped. It became too sad. Irvine's not even down there. He was speaking to a peaceful gesture. Tears well up in his own eyes now; maybe he's gonna need some of that offered comfort. Wrapping his arms around Squall's back he let his pain fall from his eyes.
"How will they know, Zell?" Squall sobbed then sniffled. "How will they know how annoying he was when he would flirt with girls? How will they know how caring and sincerely big-hearted he was to give up his seat on a bus for an elderly person?" He dipped a little lower in his embrace of the hot stone. "How will they know how really loving he could be; the real Irvine.. with this textbook stone?" He bashed the side of his fist into it. "This makes him feel like no one!" He shouted in anger at whomever chose the lid on Irvine Kinneas's life then death.
Irvine made him feel like the whole world without ever really stating it. Did Irvine feel his unspoken words? Did he know? Did he understand him that he couldn't say the things going through his heart? How can he be dead without knowing those truths? He was too relaxed in their easy relationship, that he didn't offer the normalcy of being in a relationship. Why was he so selfish?
It was because of his insecurities that everyone leaves. Nothing and no one is forever. He hoped, selfishly to a fault, that he would go first. He'd rather be lost than lose. Irvine would honor him well. Know that he loved him thoroughly, and that it was well-known. Irvine would be able to be ok without him. Altered but not ruined.
'I'm sorry, Irvine. I'm so sorry.' He cried and cried.
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Snow Drift