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Whispered Screams	By : AngryAngel Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 6957 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VIII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
�Eeeh? Seifer...? What are
you doing here?�
�Uh?�
Grunting, a can of overly
sugary soda tipped to his lips, Seifer turned around to heed the voice that had
spoken out to him so stupidly. He recognized it at once, even if he had never
much talked with the guy who called it his own. Zell Dincht stood in the
doorway to one of the many classrooms of Deling City High, looking impressively
cute though slightly disheveled in his jeans overall, white baseball cap and
wrinkly powder blue t-shirt. The spiky haired blonde�s face was screwed to a
frown, and while he was rubbing the tip of his nose with his index finger
(leaving a curious streak of black grease as he did), he looked Seifer up and
down with a scrutinizing eye.
�I�m here to help out with
the festival preparations,� Seifer declared loftily, smoothing back his golden
tresses with his palm. �You?�
�W-well,� Zell stuttered,
thrown slightly off guard by the other boy�s cockiness, �I�m in the Tech and
Set Club!�
He jabbed his thumb over
his shoulder, pointing at a group of people assembled in the back of the room.
A few other students, dressed in a similar attire as Zell�s, were fussing over
some pieces of electronic equipment piled upon a desk and quite frankly, they
weren�t looking too pleased. Seifer suddenly noticed the sharp stench of burnt
wire in the air, and his lips curled into a nasty smirk.
�Tech and Set, huh?� he
cooed artfully. �I see. Well, good luck with that... looks like you�ll need
it.�
Seifer gazed at the
younger teen just long enough to see his boyish smile slipping and his eyes
darkening in an insulted scowl. Chuckling, the eighteen year old flapped his
hand in a lazy wave and continued on his way. He certainly had no intentions of
spending the rest of his Sunday afternoon in the company of Zell and his dorky
tech friends, especially when taking into account the revolting smell that
surrounded them.
No � Seifer believed that
he had much better reasons to visit his school on the weekend than to watch
Zell set fire to a pile of electronics, and his �reason� happened to be
brunette and gifted with outrageously hot assets.
�Heh.�
He noticed several other
kids and a couple of teachers scurrying through the hallways, shouting orders
or carrying equipment from one place to the next, but only those of them
wearing clothes splattered with paint actually managed to pique Seifer�s
interest. Most of the artists seemed to emerge from the general direction of
the auditorium, which made enough sense to the blonde to elect it as his first
point of destination.
Seifer crushed his soda
can with one fist and flicked it into the nearest trash bin. As he trudged
towards the auditorium, his hands submerged in the pockets of his long khakis,
he could feel a slight pang of nervousness in the left side of his chest. He
wasn�t sure whether his agitation was really justified or not, but he did
know that the last words between him and Squall had been spoken in anger. They
hadn�t seen each other since the day before, when the brunette had flung a
paperweight at him and practically chased him out of his room.
�If ya ask me, the
paperweight alone is reason enough to feel at least a lil on edge. Who knows,
he might still be lugging it around for target practise.�
Shrugging, Seifer threw
his head into his neck and sighed. Honestly - the dangers he was willing
to put up with these days...
Loud construction noise
and faint, off-pitch chords of music finally attracted Seifer�s undivided
attention. He had stopped short before a set of wide open double doors and
curiously peeked past them. Obviously, this had to be the auditorium (Seifer
had never actually felt the need to visit it before) - there were hundreds of
dark red, cushioned seats lined up before a raised stage, which was bustling
with about two dozen or so students. Some were lugging around microphones,
tools, musical instruments or very odd looking props. Seifer could�ve sworn
that he saw one guy strutting about with a long, frizzy looking silver wig, a
pink bow tie and a seemingly ancient wooden cane.
What kind of play were
they going to perform, anyway? �The Very Gay Adventures of Abraham Fuckin�
Lincoln�?
He didn�t really care as
much as he might�ve let on; at this moment, there was only one person who truly
concerned him, and after screening the hall for a good few seconds, Seifer had
finally caught sight of him.
Squall (aka the ice
princess, Sir Glaresalot and object of Seifer�s not-so-secret desire) was
sitting cross-legged on a metal scaffolding up on the stage, loosely holding a
brush in one hand and a piece of stained cloth in the other. Every now and
then, he would exercise smooth strokes upon the floor length canvas of the
backdrop, which, to Seifer�s unschooled eye, resembled an indoor scenery of
some kind.
�Hn...�
Seifer remained by the
door for a little while longer, but merely admiring his classmate from the
distance quickly bored the boisterous teen. In the end, he really hadn�t come
all this way on a lazy summer�s afternoon to settle for secretly ogling Squall
like a stalking fan girl.
Drawing up his shoulders
as he took in a breath that was a bit deeper and longer than usual, Seifer
quietly stalked down to the stage. He discovered his art teacher, Fujin,
squatting off in a corner to explain a pile of debris to a few eager students.
Nobody was paying any kind of attention to Seifer as he leapt up on the stage
and crossed the highly polished wooden floor boards to the scaffolding Squall
was still lounging on.
�How dumb do you have
to be anyway to wax the floor when these nerds are here getting paint and dust
all over the place?�
He decided that he didn�t
particularly care and instead approached his brunette classmate from behind,
or, more precisely, below; Squall was a good eight feet�s worth in the
air, surrounded by open paint buckets, dirty brushes and old rags of cloth.
Seifer watched him shifting around for a moment, eyes keenly raking over a lean
body in washed out, paint specked blue jeans, a dark grey, long-sleeved shirt and
the usual leather wristbands, as if to memorize its ethereal beauty. However,
considering the fact that this very body had already haunted Seifer in his
dreams, there was no need to attempt at stamping it into his memory right now.
He smiled faintly at the brunette�s feet in black leather boots that dangled
playfully towards the ground, before he noisily cleared his throat.
�Why, and here I was
thinking you might be afraid of heights.�
Squall froze in the midst
of a complicated-looking brush stroke and it took several long seconds (in
which he didn�t dare move a single muscle) until he veered around very slowly.
A tall, slender girl with shoulder length red hair and square, black rimmed
glasses, who had been working up on the scaffolding with Squall, had turned as
well and was glinting darkly at Seifer with one hand fast on her hip, as if to
demand �And what do you want, disturbing our painterly harmony like
this?�.
The brunette himself
didn�t seem to mind the intrusion as much as he should have, or at least he
looked surprised more so than annoyed. Seifer noticed that his skin was rather
paler than usual and his eyes had a tired red tint to them, rimmed by dark blue
bags.
�Doesn�t look like he
got much sleep, does he? Not that that comes as much of a surprise.�
With an expression that
was mostly neutral for the time being, Squall glanced down at his classmate and
lowered his brush that was dripping with dark green paint.
�Seifer?� he asked, as if
he wasn�t quite sure that this was indeed the blonde�s name. �What are you
doing here?�
Seifer regarded the boy
with a smirk that was brighter than his white t-shirt. Mocking astonishment, he
tapped the side of his head with one long, tanned index finger.
�You know, you�re the
second person to ask me that,� he pondered. �I really don�t know whether I
should be flattered or insulted, princess.�
Quite predictably,
Squall�s handsome face drooped into a frown. The dark haired boy could have
easily fooled anyone into believing that Squall �Ice Princess� Leonhart was
physically incapable of smiling, but Seifer, luckily, knew better than that.
When the brunette continued to stare at him from his elevated position, the
brawny blonde took an inviting step backwards and motioned his friend down with
a swooping gesture.
�Come on already. I wanna
talk to you for a sec.�
Even though Squall seemed
reluctant to interrupt his work to converse with the older youth, he wordlessly
set his brush onto a dirty rag, curled his hands around the edge of the metal
platform and smoothly dropped off the scaffolding. The girl, however, was
apparently fighting down the urge to throw something at Seifer, because her
freckled hand was quivering dangerously and her expression was sour.
Seifer found her
displeasure both amusing and irritating at the same time.
�Whaddayaknow, everyone
seems to have a claim on dear Squally-boy these days. Yeah, well, you may be a
hot lil redheaded nerd and all, bitch, but he'd only ever pay any attention to
ya if you�d suddenly sprout bristles and took a plunge in the paint bucket.�
Despite his seemingly
unwavering arrogance, Seifer considered it smarter to usher Squall away from
the stage entirely and towards the dimly lit back of the auditorium, where they
would (hopefully) be able to talk in peace without being glared at loathingly.
The brunette followed Seifer up several flights of stairs and into a dark row
of squashy velvet seats with visible discomfort, but he didn�t let out a single
peep of complaint.
Frankly, Seifer found the
boy�s meek behavior a bit strange, but he wasn�t dumb enough to ask.
Grunting contently, the
blonde flopped into a random seat and threw his legs up on the back of a chair
before him. Squall�s steel blue eyes flickered to Seifer�s dirty brown boots
with unconcealed disapproval, but he obviously wasn�t in the mood to lecture
the ill-mannered teen, because he finally sank down beside him, looking grim.
Seifer chortled when he
saw that Squall had left one seat empty between them.
�What�s this?� the blonde
jeered in a rough voice, pointing at the unoccupied chair. �Scared?�
Squall furrowed his brows,
but said nothing. His gaze was pinned to the stage up front with typical
ignorance; he only acknowledged Seifer�s presence by piercing him with quick
sideway glances.
�... Fine, have it your
way.�
Despite his deceivingly
agreeing comment, Seifer stood up from his chair and resumed an identical
position in the seat that had once set him and Squall apart. The brunette
didn�t protest, but his body language had clearly stiffened. With his arms
crossed tightly before his chest and his lips thin, he continued to stare
onwards.
�You look like you�ve got
a broom up your ass or something,� Seifer leered while moving his knee an inch
closer to Squall�s. �Relax. I�m just here to talk.�
Squall didn�t seem to find
this relaxing at all, because his jaw hardened visibly. Seifer noticed that his
eyes looked brighter than usual... almost glazed over. Perhaps it was just the
fact that they were bloodshot and framed by shadows, but Squall looked almost
like he was about to cry.
�... Really, I wish you
wouldn�t make it so fuckin� hard on yourself. I know I�m not here to
hurt you, you know I�m not here to hurt you � what�s the big deal? I
really think we should be past this insecurity stage by now.�
Sighing, Seifer tilted his
head sideways and grimaced, which gave him the expression of a confused puppy
dog. The only assets he lacked to be completely convincing were a wagging tail
and slimy drool oozing from the corners of his mouth.
�Squall,� he said,
suddenly calm and serious. �For real, are ya gonna look at me at all or ya just
gonna keep pretending I don�t exist?�
It was a valid question -
probably the most valid of them all - and to Seifer�s honest surprise, Squall
responded to it by finally reeling his head around to him. His long, slender
jugular jerked quite noticeably when he did so � as if he had to gulp down his
pride, ignorance or fear to oppose whatever was to come.
�Why are you here?�
Lifting an eyebrow, Seifer
tried to give the impression of being politely puzzled at the harsh edge that
had accompanied Squall�s otherwise toneless question.
�Why wouldn�t I
be?� the blonde retorted shrewdly.
�You have no reason to be
here!� Squall shot back, anger now lacing his tone. �None, alright! The only
people that are here today are the ones in Tech and Set, Drama Club or Art
Club. You aren�t a member of any of those!�
�True,� Seifer agreed
soothingly as he shrugged and crossed his arms behind his head to lean back in
his seat and gaze at the dark ceiling. �But you�re here, kitten � and
you�re reason enough.�
He watched Squall�s
reaction from the corner of his emerald eyes, the line of his mouth relaxed and
showing off something that vaguely resembled a smile. To his disapproval, he
saw a blank shadow falling over Squall�s face, which � so the blonde mused as
he was waiting for a reply of some sort � was without even the slightest traces
of softness or childhood. The brunette�s cheekbones were carved high and
elegant, but the sallow whiteness of his skin gave him a sort of hollow, bloodless
look; whether this was to blame on Squall�s cutting habit, lack of sleep or
something else, Seifer couldn�t possibly say.
In any case, Squall didn�t
seem too cheerful about the justification of his presence.
Indeed, the brunette�s
already gloomy aura had transformed into one of pure malignance. Anyone else
would�ve probably been flattered and cajoled by Seifer�s flirty confession, but
to Squall, it was just another stab at his sanity. The last thing he needed to
hear was that the blonde had come all this way to Deling City High on a Sunday
just to see him, especially after what had happened between them the day
before. Whether or not Seifer�s bold words were truthful really made no
difference, or at least their possible genuineness didn�t catapult Squall onto
Cloud Nine � not that he believed such a place existed, anyway. He had stopped
believing into heaven, love, goodness and innocence the same way he had ceased
believing into fairytales. In his eyes, God and Cupid were no more or less real
than Santa Claus.
At the same time, he
realized that it probably didn�t matter so much what he thought � for
whatever reason, Seifer had appointed him the target of his amorous advances
and unfortunately, the blonde was more stubborn than a goat.
What the hell would it
take for Seifer to finally give up?
�I can�t believe he
showed up here. What on earth... I mean, I seriously don�t get it. I yelled at
him, I threw stuff at him, I kicked him out of my house and never apologized
for any of it, but he is still sticking around! Is he just exceptionally
thick or...?�
Even inside his head,
Squall didn�t like the sound of this. He had to admit that Seifer honestly
confused him. The blonde was as unpredictable as a storm and as scarily
vigorous as the raging fires of hell (this, for a change, was a place he did
believe in); Seifer hadn�t strayed from his conquesting course once and that
made him very different from everyone whom Squall had ever dealt with.
Perhaps the only person who was as remotely persistent as the blonde was
Selphie Tilmitt, the bubbly girl he worked with at �Ward�s.� She was the only
one, aside from Seifer, whom Squall had not managed to fully drive away. Every
time he went to work, she�d ask him how he was doing... how his day had been...
and she�d tell him that, if he ever needed anything, he should never hesitate
to give her a call.
�... This isn�t the
same, though. First of all, I�m hardly ever forced to talk to her. She�ll
usually just ramble and leave me alone when she realizes I�m not listening.
Second, Selphie�s a girl. She�s not like Seifer. She�s not like...�
Next to him, Seifer
breathed a snort of indignation and caused Squall�s train of thought to derail
as he so often did. Seifer really seemed to get a kick out of unsettling
Squall. It felt that way to the brunette, anyhow.
�Hey,� Seifer piped up,
�Quit bein� all crabby and talk to me. I�m gettin� bored here, ya know.�
�... I don�t fucking
care.�
Squall prowled the sea of
empty chairs before them with his eyes, carefully avoiding to clash gazes with
Seifer. The brunette was still almost like a child that way � believing that if
he couldn�t see his enemy, then in return, he could not be seen, either.
He knew it was foolish, but it had worked before, and at this point it was one
of the scarce means of opposing Seifer that were left to him.
�You�re bein� awfully
grouchy, you know,� Seifer declared with a lazy drawl as he flexed his foot on
top of the chair before him. �Here I am, all nice, even though you tried
to perforate my heard with a fuckin� paperweight, but all I get from you
is attitude.�
�You make it sound like I asked
you to come,� the brunette retaliated in a quaking voice. �I didn�t.�
Anybody who might�ve been
watching their conversation from a distance probably would�ve found the scene
to be rather peculiar; the two boys were sitting right next to each other,
which could have fooled anyone into believing that they were the best of
friends, but they talked to the thickening air before them rather than to each
other�s face. Both of them were looking pretty wound up and emotional in their
own, personal way; Squall�s skin was stark and his eyes almost black with
difficultly exercised temperance, whereas Seifer was simpering in an arrogant
sort of fashion that was easily belied by the troubled frown that crumpled his
features.
For now, Seifer�s patience
was still dominating over his exasperation, but he wouldn�t be able to buckle
down the chains on his fiery temper for much longer.
Squall knew that perfectly
well.
The disconcerted brunette
was kneading his lean upper arms with his hands, which he had crossed before
his quickly heaving chest. He had slid low into his chair as if to disappear
from sight, and the soles of his boots were scraping across the linoleum floor
quite restlessly. He didn�t know what exactly was keeping him from leaping out
of his seat and turning his back on Seifer for good, but he sincerely hoped
that his reasons weren�t what he feared them to be.
But perhaps he knew better
than that, too.
�I have to do this...
there�s no way around it. No matter what, it needs to be done. The longer it
takes... the more it�s going to hurt. I need to get this over with!�
�As a matter of fact,�
Squall suddenly continued neutrally, as if they had been discussing the
weather, �I want nothing to do with you.�
He sincerely hoped that
this remark had been unmistakable and harsh enough in nature, but Seifer was
showing no signs of resignation whatsoever. Instead, the blonde was chuckling
softly, although his laugh sounded a bit more blanched than usual.
�Really...� he replied,
elongating the intonation of the word more than was necessary. �You know, I
think you like me.�
Seifer was lolling
nonchalantly in his chair when Squall hissed venomously in reply. Finally, the
brunette whipped around to confront him and Seifer wasn�t quite sure what to
make of his younger classmate�s expression. There was anger, obviously, but
there was also a nervous quiver surging through the brunette�s body that Seifer
could only interpret as panic. If it hadn�t been for the lack of ammunition,
Seifer thought it likely that Squall would�ve lobbed something at him again.
The seventeen year old had developed an unsettling habit of insulting and
physically threatening anyone who dared to corner him.
Even so, Seifer still
managed to retain his air of innocent bewilderment and a very sweet smile.
�Me? Like
you?� Squall spat shrilly, his eyes so oddly dilated that his black pupils
looked huge. �What the fuck are you, deranged? Let me get this across to
you once and for all, you stupid fuck: I am not interested in you! I
don�t wanna be friends with you, I don�t wanna go out with you, hell, I don�t
even wanna be in the same fucking building as you! You�re annoying the
piss outta me! I want you to stay the fuck out of my life!�
Squall�s last sentence had
been pointed and overly high-pitched. His blatant malevolence was scary enough
to make any man turn tail and run, but Seifer was either blessed with
exceptionally thick skin or he simply didn�t mind. Shrugging, the good-looking
blonde breathed a bored sigh and smoothed back his hair with one hand.
�... And you actually
expect me to believe that?� he exhaled with a grin.
�Fuck no, I don�t!� Squall
snapped back instantly, trying to force an tint of sarcasm into his brittle
voice if only to cover up his anxiety. �I don�t care enough to expect
so much as a flying fuck from you!�
The dark haired boy could
feel his own stomach revolting when those words rolled off his tongue, but he
bit down the pain as he always did. Squall�s reclusiveness and spitefulness
might have looked like they came perfectly natural, but they didn�t; the
brunette didn�t enjoy being mean to Seifer, but he wasn�t one to back
down from a task that he considered obligatory. Hurt him as it might, it
certainly wasn�t going to stop him.
Still, that flicker of
bitterness that flashed across the velvety emerald surface of Seifer�s eyes
sent a jab to Squall�s heart that was almost enough to make him wince from the
torture.
�I see,� Seifer murmured after
a long moment of silence in which they simply stared at each other, their
bodies rotated uncomfortably in their chairs. �And why is that? Are you
scared?�
It was untypical for
Seifer to ask a question like that; usually, he would assume and not
inquire, for simplicity�s (and a monstrous ego�s) sake. Squall�s behavior had
confused him to such a degree, however, that he thought it rather unsafe to
keep up said habit any longer. He wasn�t sure why he couldn�t just believe
what the brunette told him � why he couldn�t accept it and move on.
�Why? ... Because I
don�t want to.�
The reason was so very
plain and yet so stunningly complicated. He didn�t want to do what
Squall was asking from him; he didn�t want to stay out of the brunette�s life.
He had never quite felt this way before, but it was a feeling he deemed
important enough to hold on to, at least for a little while. After that...
well... he�d just have to see. It was difficult to make predictions on
something he had never, not even once, experienced in his entire life.
�Oh god, don�t tell me
this is what all those damn hippies call �love�...? Nah. No way. It�s more like
a crush or somethin� cheesy like that. A bit of an obsession, who the fuck
cares. I want this and I know he does, too. I do wonder why he�s so hell-bent
on pushing me away, though. It�s not like I mean any harm to him. Without
tooting my horn, I�d say I�ve been pretty good so far!�
He finally noticed that
Squall�s expression was a bit vacant. At first, the eighteen year old blamed
this on having asked the brunette whether he was wetting his pants yet, but
when he realized that Squall seemed transfixed on a point behind Seifer,
he finally turned around.
At first, he didn�t
recognize the tall, ebony haired boy in a white polo shirt and pressed khakis,
who was weaving his way through the row of seats towards them. He was
fashionably pale (though not as much as Squall) and sporting an air-headed
expression.
Somehow, he did
look familiar, but Seifer couldn�t place a finger on that feeling.
It wasn�t necessary,
anyhow, because the youth stopped inches from Seifer�s chair and excitedly
returned Squall�s scowl and his blonde classmate�s confused gaze with a
pretentious smile.
�Seifer,� he exclaimed
loudly while slapping Seifer�s shoulder, who acknowledged the amicable gesture
with a surprised grunt, �Good to see you here! Really admirable of you to help
out even though you just joined the school. Always nice to see some
class spirit, you know?�
�Eh...�
�I�m Nida, Class
President,� the boy added, puffing out his chest. �We had gym class together,
remember? Tuesday, second period!�
�Oh... yeah... right.�
Seifer only vaguely
remembered; this week had been far too busy to recall just any old airhead�s
name and face. Nida leaned smugly against the back of a seat in front of them
while now seizing Squall with his dark brown eyes.
�Squall, you�re here too!
Art Club, I presume?� he asked crisply. �How�s that ankle doing, anyways?�
Seifer turned to shift his
attention to Squall, and he almost collapsed with laughter when he caught a
glimpse of the brunette�s unpleasant expression. Clearly, Squall didn�t seem to
think that his body parts, healthy or not, were any of his Class President�s
business. His upper lip curled slightly as he squinted his eyes to slits of
cold silver and folded his arms once more.
�What do you want, Nida?�
he asked waspishly, not making any effort to conceal the note of annoyance in
his inflection.
The blonde could tell that
President Nida was highly offended by Squall�s acid-tongued reply. Fluffing
himself up like a ruffled rooster, the black haired boy flared his nostrils in
an attempt of looking both furious and imperative.
�Why, honestly, I don�t
understand why you always have to be so rude, Leonhart,� Nida huffed
stridently, looking like he was badly constipated. �I simply saw that you two
were having a little get-together up here and thought I�d say hi.�
�We�re not having a
�get-together�,� Squall said in a tone of loathing that Seifer had always
thought was especially reserved for him. �Quit sticking your nose where it
doesn�t belong and mind your own fucking business, Nida.�
�Whoa-hoo. That was
harsh, even for his standards,� Seifer thought, amused but nonetheless
startled by Squall�s absurd coldness. �Poor lil Nida doesn�t look like he�s
used to being told off like that.�
Indeed, Nida�s pale face
had turned an impressive shade of crimson under Squall�s icy stare, before the
formerly so pompous Class President swelled indignantly and finally whirled
around on the heel to quickly stalk away, mumbling something that Seifer could
only identify as �honestly!�.
�Well, that was... uh...�
Seifer started, clicking his tongue and indistinctly waving his hand through
the air. �Let�s just say he�ll 'prolly need ego surgery after this memorable
lil experience.�
�Like I give a fuck.�
Despite Squall�s very
cruel words, Seifer couldn�t help but think how ridiculously beautiful the
brunette was, cowering there in his chair all angry at the world. He was
flipping dark brown blades of hair out of his delicately chiseled face, while
monitoring darkly how Nida disappeared from the auditorium.
Without thinking on it
much, Seifer let his pale ruby lips split into a grin and he whispered into
Squall�s ear �I could kiss you right here, ya know.�
The brunette ricocheted
backwards and pierced him with a look of sheer revolt, his eyes glittering
maliciously like finely cut sapphires.
�And I could castrate you
right here, ya know,� he spat, imitating Seifer�s shifty drawl with
disturbing accuracy.
Seifer jumped dramatically
in his seat and cupped his crotch in a hasty gesture of protection.
�Gee, you�re really scary
sometimes, I swear,� he scoffed, not at all disgruntled. �Always threatening
the family jewels like a pissed off ex-girlfriend or something.�
Squall wasn�t fooled by
his lanky performance, either.
�Cry me a river, asshole,�
he replied with a snide scowl.
�And on top of that, you
manage to be a downright PMS�ing bitch! You sure you�re a dude?�
Of course, Seifer had already
once assured himself of Squall�s manhood � literally so, not counting the many
times he had replayed their romantic embrace in his mind. The brunette also
recalled their romantic little episode in Seifer�s kitchen quite vividly, but
he didn�t seem too happy about having to relive that memory.
With an enraged growl, he
threw his head to the side and resumed glaring at the stage.
�Quit pestering me
already,� Squall ordered tartly, his motions crisp and his breath flat. �Stupid
prick.�
Seifer, however, reclined
in his chair and said with an adorable smile �Sometimes I really don�t know
whether to pity you, molest you or punch your lights out. You have a way of
making me wanna do it all.�
�I�m touched. Now beat
it.�
�Aww. But this is so much
fun.�
�I don�t consider you
giving me a headache �fun�. If I really enjoyed the feeling of my brain being
split into half I could just run it into a concrete wall without having to put
up with your stupid blabber.�
�Well,� Seifer breathed
with a bright chuckle while wriggling his knees and poking his own thigh
muscles like a child with a hyperactivity disorder, �That�s always an option, I
suppose. I�d rather keep irritating you a lil more, though.�
Squall realized that this
was going nowhere; Seifer was literally as thick as a brick. Squall had thought
that he had made himself clear, but apparently, that wasn�t the case. Seifer
was as happy-go-lucky and unassuming as ever, relishing their senseless
bantering more than he seemed to mind it. How anyone could not be put
off by his deliberate rudeness was seriously beyond Squall�s understanding.
With a painful lurch in his stomach, he decided that he�d have to drastically
twist things up.
In a changed voice that
was completely bleached of softness or humor and instead as wounding as a
razor�s blade, he finally ground out �Look, Almasy � I�m not a fag like you
are. Are you not getting that, or what? Maybe it hasn�t occurred to you, but
not every guy�s into making out with other dudes. I know I should�ve pushed you
off much sooner that one night, but I was too startled, I guess. In any case,
I�m not anymore � all I want is for you to stay the fuck away from me,
because quite honestly, you just gross me out.�
Squall had finally struck
a nerve, and he had struck it hard. He wasn�t proud of it, which was part of
the reason why he avoided Seifer�s face and the taken aback, baffled look that
had conquered the blonde�s handsome features.
�What?� Seifer asked with
a strangled, dangerously swaying gasp that almost didn�t make it past his lips.
�What did you say?�
He wasn�t sure whether to
believe what he had just heard, but there was a very persuasive, nagging voice
inside his head that informed him triumphantly �told you so.� If Squall�s words
hadn�t reminded him so much of the scathing and leering he had been exposed to
at his old high school, perhaps he would have been able to see right through
the brunette�s paper-thin fa�ade. Squall Leonhart surely wasn�t the type to
degrade people for their sexuality, but Seifer�s bruised ego chose to overlook
that characteristic of the sensitive dark haired boy.
This sudden jab of pain
was so sickly familiar, how couldn�t he believe what he was hearing?
And yet, he wished so hard
that he was wrong.
�I asked you a question,�
he growled, the bite in his inflection stunningly sharp.
�You heard me,� Squall
retorted frostily, but his voice sounded somewhat disjointed.
He still wasn�t looking at
Seifer and continued to stare glassy-eyed at the stage. At this point, he just
wanted to get this over with.
�But if you�d like to hear
it again - I said you were an annoying faggot,� Squall forced himself to
repeat.
�You little shit...�
Seifer hissed softly. �You little piece of fucking shit.�
Inwardly, Squall winced at
each of Seifer�s unkind words that brandished his soul like whiplashes. He knew
he deserved every single condescending syllable of them, but nevertheless, they
stung like nothing else in his life ever had. Almost feverishly now, he kept
staring ahead.
Hard, stubborn and stupid.
�Don�t look down. Don�t
look at him. Don�t look down. It�s okay. It�s fine. Keep cool. Stay calm. Don�t
look at him. Don�t. Don�t. Just don�t.�
�Fuck this shit, I�ve had
enough.�
He could hear Seifer
rising from his seat in one jerky motion. For a second, he expected to be hit
and his muscles tensed to prepare him for the blow, but the blonde never
touched him. Instead, Seifer turned with a last indignant snort and walked away
from Squall with a pace hurried enough to border to a run.
�H-he�s leaving. He�s
finally... ugh. I-I should be happy, I guess. Then... then why... why aren�t
I...?�
Although Squall was
shaking like a frightened, insecure child, he knew the answer to that question
� he had probably never not known it. But Squall had grown up learning
to ignore the truth and making lies believable in the eyes of anyone, even
himself. In the end, he would doubtlessly collapse under this burden of trading
reality for something that hurt far more than any truth ever would... but not
today.
Not today.
Even so, he couldn�t prevent
his aching grey eyes from fogging up. All he could do was shield himself
from anyone�s view and block out the reality that scared him so much. Behind
long, ivory fingers, crystal tears fell silently along an elegantly carved jaw
line at last, mingling with an agony that was so quiet, it was louder than a
scream.
Meanwhile, Seifer had
taken the stairs in stride and reached the exit, but as if something was
calling him, holding him back, he threw a last resentful glance across his
shoulder, only to be startled by what his greenstone gaze took in. He saw
Squall doubling over and covering his scarily white face with one hand (the
trembling of which Seifer couldn�t acknowledge from the distance), looking
miserable like a broken china doll. The blonde paused for a very short moment,
honestly moved by the wretched sight, but Squall�s acrid words still stood
etched in flames before his inner eye.
..: �I said you were an
annoying faggot.� :..
�Faggot... fag...
right... how could I ever forget...?�
Biting down on the corner
of his bottom lip, he pretended not to care � pretended not to see.
Perhaps this was too big for him to handle... or too small to matter. Either
way, it was no longer any of his business. Maybe it never had been.
Well... whatever.
With features hard as
stone, he raced out of the auditorium, Deling City High and, as he presumed
without a sliver of a doubt, Squall Leonhart�s life.
- 14
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- 16
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Whispered Screams