Adult-FanFiction.org : Final Fantasy

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
- 3
- 4
- 5
When your
mind is heavy with thoughts and overflowing with memories that are nothing
short of painful, running very quickly becomes hell. You no longer run to reach
a goal; you don't run to win. You run merely for the sake of running away from
the things that haunt you. You start to breathe differently, move your feet
differently, and before you know it, you're exhausted. Your heart may pound or
it may crawl, but your mind will spin like a carousel. As it spins, it will
deceive you. And it will force you to remember, even as you fight to keep your
pace; fight not to fall.
At least when your name is
Seifer Almasy.
No other gym lesson had
ever left him feeling so drained and so exhausted. His lungs were wheezing
disturbingly as he sank down upon his bench in the changing rooms one hour
after leaving Squall at the infirmary, and he was almost relieved that Jeff and
his cronies had found no further interest in his persona. He was no longer in
the mood to fight. Instead, he utilized his energy to will Squall's image into
the back of his mind, but despite his efforts, he could think of nothing else.
He found himself wondering whether the brunette was alright, or whether his
injury had been severe enough to justify surgery.
Dully, Seifer shook his
head as he placed his shoes and gym clothes in his bag, standing barefoot in
only his pants. Powerful muscles were gliding smoothly beneath tanned skin as
he peeled his fresh t-shirt over his head, ruffling his carefully gelled back
hair. His expression darkened.
He should have acted much
sooner. In fact, he should have intervened the very moment that those
dim-witted troublemakers had opened their foul mouths. It wasn't like he hadn't
known any better, either. Perhaps he had felt like Squall had deserved a lesson
for his frigidity, but he had clearly missed the point at which the brunette's
"lecture" had turned into flat out punishment.
He hadn't meant for this
to happen.
A frown crumpled Seifer's
features, and he halted briefly in putting on his shoes. Squall had been so
stiff in his embrace back at the track court, almost as if the brunette had
been scared of the touch. Why would he be? Save for that one unlucky time, Seifer
had been careful and treated Squall like a fragile fucking china doll.
After all, Seifer had only
wished to help.
He resumed dressing, but
shoved his varsity jacket into his bag. It had become far too hot already, and
perhaps it was also time to move on - time to leave his past behind for good.
His face curled and he snorted disdainfully at the notion - thus far, he didn't
exactly have anywhere (or anyone) to "move on" to.
Slowly, he raised up, and
his emerald eyes lost focus somewhere on the brushed metal surface of his
locker door. Was this the real reason for his emotional distress? His
past? Did it even have anything to do with Squall at all? He probably wasn't
half as special as Seifer thought him to be. The blonde believed the roots for
his anxiety to be buried somewhere else. Part of him was still nostalgically
clinging to his past, to his never ceasing popularity - and Squall's repulsion
was eating away at his self-assurance, which he had always deemed untouchable.
... "Never ceasing
popularity?"
'Yeah right.'
A cold frown dimmed his
naturally lucid features, and it shadowed his eyes with the bitterness that was
smoldering deep within the darker crevices of his heart.
He hated the brunette;
hated him for being the pure personification of the ill turn that Seifer's life
had recently taken. Squall ignored him, made it clear how superfluous and
resistible he was at length - likely, he even condemned him. Squall was
everything that Seifer had wanted to leave behind when he had been banished to
this town, with only one exception...
His beauty.
It may have sounded corny,
and in Seifer's ears it did, but it was still as simple as that. Without a
question, Squall was beautiful on the outside, but his inside remained a secret
yet. Seifer had never been any good with secrets nor riddles; he liked for
things to be straight forward and clear-cut. And if he must ask a question, he
at least wanted to receive a proper answer.
Squall, however, didn't
seem to function that way.
Perhaps his chill had a
reason; it definitely didn't seem to be funneled towards Seifer alone. More so,
it appeared to be a general attitude that the brunette carried outwards with
almost disturbing perfection. He was, by far, the most unlikely person that
Seifer could have ever devoted his attention to. Cold and untouchable - those
were adjectives that Seifer had never before associated with objects of his
interest, let alone desire.
Then again, maybe it was
time for a change.
He sighed under his
breath, smoothing a few stray tresses of golden hair behind his ears. This
whole brooding deal was getting him nowhere.
Overall, Seifer had come
to no conclusion as he finally exited the changing rooms and proceeded down the
hallway, avoiding flocks of students on their lunch period. He passed the corner
that rounded off to the infirmary, hesitating in his stride. He wasn't going to
succumb to this. If they needed his help, if Squall needed it, they
would surely call for his assistance. It was none of his business in the first
place, and he already felt pathetic enough for even caring what had come to
pass behind that white door after he had closed it over an hour ago.
As he was standing there
in his dark grey khakis, heavy boots and the white t-shirt that was tight at
the curves of his well-toned shoulders, gazing down the hallway in a blank, he
suddenly felt someone prodding him into the side. His eyebrows knit together as
he turned with a low-pitched grunt; he wasn't in the mood for silly games.
Amethyst eyes were beaming
at him fondly, a strange sparkle whirling in their depths. Seifer cocked his
head aside, easing his features into a less menacing expression.
"... Irvine?" he
asked, his baritone voice sounding perplexed.
The cowboy skidded past
him to look down the same hallway that Seifer had been fixing so attentively,
but he seemed disappointed with what he saw - or rather, what he didn't see.
"What's so
interesting down there?" he inquired, snickering with curiosity. "You
looked so transfixed, I thought you'd spotted a babe."
Seifer resisted the urge
to twist his eyes towards the ceiling. Did this guy actually think about
anything but girls? Truthfully, Seifer's mind too had been quite
occupied with the thoughts of a certain brunette, but at least he deemed
himself a bit more selective than the flirty cowboy. Considering those girls in
their math class and the attention that the auburn haired teen had devoted to
them, Irvine seemed to be after anything that breathed.
"Hmm, guess not
then," Irvine shrugged casually, before he turned to face Seifer once
more. "Anyway, Zell and I are on our way to 'Ward's' for lunch. Wanna
come?"
As Irvine jabbed his
finger over his right shoulder, Seifer finally noticed the short, spiky-haired
blonde in the bright red skating attire roaming around somewhere behind the cowboy.
It sort of looked like Zell was practicing martial arts moves, since he was
found randomly punching the thin air; shadow boxing perhaps, but Seifer wasn't
entirely sure. For all he knew, this Zell kid could be catching flies, and it
looked nothing short of laughable.
"Zell," Irvine
tried to snare the blonde's attention. "Hey man, give it a rest! This is
Seifer, the new guy I told you about. Seifer, this is my buddy Zell."
Zell turned on the spot,
his arms still angled before his chest as he bounced on the balls of his feet.
Seifer snorted audibly. Just who did this guy think he was? Bruce "The
Bleach Haired Dorky Hedgehog" Lee? His hair was so damned spiky someone
could have plunged him head first into the ground and used him as a flagpole.
Apparently, Zell had
noticed the jeer in Seifer's dark green eyes, because his own baby blue ones
narrowed ever so slightly and he puffed out his chest, trying to look
intimidating. Granted, he was kind of cute with his boyish good looks,
but Seifer didn't care all that much for blondes in general. After all, opposites
attracted and that was a well known fact - or so Seifer had heard, anyway.
The only appealing thing
that Seifer had to acknowledge about the short blonde was an intricate tribal
tattoo that snaked across the greater part of Zell's left cheek and temple. It
was one of those pieces of art that looked like their creation had caused mad
pain and driven mothers to go into conniptions. Semi-consciously, Seifer made a
mental note to himself to expand his own collection of tattoos. Thus far, the
only ink gracing his skin was a black tribal band writhing around his right
biceps, and the inside portion of it had hurt enough to last him for two lifetimes.
But, rest assured, his
mother had gone into conniptions, and that alone had made it all worth
his while.
"Yo."
The wannabe martial artist
had finally lowered his hands, and Seifer noticed that he was wearing padded,
fingerless gloves. Seifer resisted the urge to snort repetitively, if only
because Zell was wiping one of those hands on his skater pants and offered it
to him. With a faint look of disgust curling his chiseled features, the taller
blonde accepted it, and he shook it awkwardly.
"Well, got that taken
care of," Irvine announced contently, looking from one to the other with a
cryptic grin. "So, you wanna come along or what, Seif?"
"... Sure,"
Seifer replied, while rolling one of his shoulders in a supple shrug that was
meant as nothing but a gesture of pure coolness. "Sounds good."
It wasn't like he had
anything better to do, anyway. Forty minutes of lunch until his biology class
was ample time to not be spending in awe over the missing ice princess.
These quirky kids looked like they'd provide for some well-needed distraction,
and they seemed alright enough. Not the usual jock crowd he would hang with,
but he had broken with them months ago and he wasn't dumb enough to
rebound.
"Sweet. Let's ride
then!" the cowboy suggested, ushering Seifer into a random hallway.
The blonde walked with
them nonchalantly, his hands buried in the pockets of his loose cargo pants. He
watched Zell's silly antics and listened to the teen's tales on his riot
English class, somehow falling into a droning daze once they had stepped out
into the school court. The air was alive with a vast array of sounds and many
colorful specks that were actually students who had laid out on the grass to
consume their bought or homemade lunches. His viridian eyes grazed the trees,
cherrywood benches and the hoods of many cars that were glistening in the warm
sunlight. Somewhere in the distance, a fountain was splashing water onto fine
marble, and Seifer couldn't help but turn his head towards that serene sound.
Instinctively, he slowed
in his stride as his eyes connected with a lone figure sitting at the edge of
that spring. The scenery was enveloped by a group of beautiful old trees, which
were shedding petals and leaves to dance on the currents of the quiet summer
breeze. Seifer didn't have to look twice to recognize that head of tousled
brown hair and the lithely limbed body that was resting so calmly on its
pedestal, offering a true sight to behold. It was of course none other than
Squall, who was sitting almost sideways with one leg propped up before him and
the cool water spluttering happily behind his back. His head was bowed, and he
was focused on something in his hands that Seifer could not distinguish from
the distance.
The blonde slowly
continued walking, but he didn't tear his gaze away from Squall's image,
quietly hoping that the brunette would once again sense his eyes upon him. But
Squall was engrossed in whatever it was that he was doing, and his body was
perfectly still.
'What's he doing out
here...? He must be feeling better... I wonder if his ankle is alright?'
Seifer had to adjust his
focus once they had progressed further down the street, away from the school.
His mind, however, would not adjust, and he found something tugging on
him and his natural curiosity, urging him to go back for reasons that were
still puzzling to him.
"-then she dropped
it."
"No way, dude!"
"Yep, she did,
too."
"Did she bend down to
pick it up?"
As Zell's and Irvine's
voices phased back into his conscience, he glanced at them sourly and his
eyebrows kinked downwards. Suddenly, he had no desire whatsoever to eat lunch
with them anymore, or to have lunch at all, for that matter. Throwing a curt
look across his shoulder, he assured himself that Squall hadn't just vanished
into thin air, before clearing his throat to divert the boys' attention.
"Erh... Hey, sorry
guys, I forgot my wallet in my car," he lied, keeping an astoundingly
straight face. "I gotta go back and get it."
They stopped in confusion,
but he only grinned at them amicably. Little did they know that his wallet was
stowed away in one of the pockets of his gym bag, together with the keys to his
truck. It seemed like an excusable amendment of the truth, though, at least for
the sake of grasping this chance to talk to Squall.
"That's
alright," Irvine offered kindly. "I can foot the bill for ya and you
pay me back later or something. And come to think of it, I could probably get
the cute chick to give us a free meal..."
"Nah, you guys go
ahead, I'll catch up with ya at the diner," Seifer quickly objected,
slicing the air with his hand in a dismissive gesture.
"But you don't even
know where it's at," Zell mused, scratching his chin. "You've never
been, have ya?"
"I'll find it, no
worries," the taller blonde bit back with a tiny snarl. "Meet ya
there."
He didn't wait for their
response, afraid to be running out of possible excuses for his retreat. They
watched him walking away and exchanged confused glances, but then they simply
shrugged and continued on their way. Seifer had witnessed all that from the
very corner of his eyes, but he didn't actually steer for the fountain until he
was assured that Irvine and Zell were well out of sight.
His powerful stride
crumpled to a mere crawl as he approached the ethereal figure still sitting
motionless on the brim of the fountain. Water droplets were flittering through
the air, glistening in the golden sunlight like miniscule jewels. Squall didn't
seem to notice any of it; he was focused on a stack of paper in his hands, and
as Seifer stepped closer, he could see the cables of an MP-3 player trailing
off into Squall's ears. The brunette had changed sometime after his infirmary
visit, because he was wearing his biker boots, faded blue jeans and
long-sleeved black shirt, as well as his leather wristbands. His backpack was
placed at the foot of the spring, and he held a black marker loosely in his
hand.
Finally, Seifer stopped at
an arm's length distance before the brunette. He looked down upon the shorter
boy silently, not quite sure whether Squall was even aware of his presence.
When the dark haired teen finally flicked up his gaze, however, Seifer could
see no surprise mirroring in the blue grey orbits of his eyes, only mute and
thinly masked annoyance.
"Why, hello...
again," Seifer said awkwardly, and he raised his hand in a lazy greeting.
"Guess you're out of the infirmary, huh?"
Squall regarded him with
an air that suggested skepticism over the existence of a brain in Seifer's very
skull. His features were rigid like stone, and Seifer wondered whether they
were even capable of producing something like a smile. His eyes were hard like
slate tinted glass, but his gaze didn't leave Seifer's face. It surprised the
blonde, if only mildly so.
"As you see."
Squall eventually replied flatly, before returning his attention to the notepad
in his hands.
Seifer was a man of many
traits and talents, and persistence ranked very high amongst them. His brows
twitched slightly at Squall's distinct reserve, but then he dropped his gym bag
to the ground and let himself flop down upon the wide marble brim of the
spring, right next to the brunette.
Sucking in a sharp breath
as he felt Seifer slumping down at his side, Squall forced himself to keep
staring at the paper before him. He had been working on finishing his math
class sketch, but with this guy suddenly at hand, he just knew that it would
turn out to be impossible. In his ears, Squall could hear Marilyn Manson
screaming. The music was just quiet enough to where Squall had been able to
understand Seifer, but the high-pitched voice of the singer suddenly irritated
him, as did his lyrics, which Squall usually soaked up like a dry sponge
absorbing water. Growling under his breath, he removed the plugs from his ears
and laced the cable connecting them around his neck.
Seifer, misinterpreting
the gesture as an invitation to start a conversation, let his lips snap into a
tight grin.
"So, how's your ankle
doin' anyway?" he asked, leaning into the brunette to cast a good look at
his propped up foot.
He could see the muscles
shifting beneath the thin fabric of Squall's shirt as he moved closer, and the
brunette practically jumped out of his skin as he edged away, a flush creeping
to his cheekbones.
"Fine," Squall
growled defensively, while still staring at his sketchpad.
The brunette tried to
steady himself. His skin was starting to feel uncomfortably tight. He didn't
want this guy to be so unnaturally close to him; it reminded him of their
earlier episode, and he certainly didn't like to think of that. The memory of
it was heavy on his mind as it was, and the blonde's presence did little to
change that. Seifer smelled so... profoundly; something like a brisk, mint
ocean scent, and another tint to it that Squall couldn't quite figure out. It
was overwhelming. Squall was suffocating, wanting to stand up and walk away
from this.
From him.
Squall swallowed hard, and
his features hardened in an attempt of chasing the obnoxious blonde away with a
well-placed death glare.
It wasn't working.
"What did the doctor
say?" Seifer asked him, oblivious to Squall's instable state of mind.
"It looked like it was pretty swollen."
'Why are you asking?
Why do you even care? Who asked you to care? This is none of your
fucking business!'
As Squall's jaw set and
the lines of his face grew sharper, Seifer could guess those thoughts to be
crossing the brunette's mind. Part of him understood this and was willing to
comply with Squall's antipathy, but at the same time, the greater part of him was
reluctant to just give in. Of course, at this rate, he was never going to get
anywhere. For a moment, he even considered being flirty - being obvious. Squall
didn't seem to pose much of a threat. He wasn't the type of guy that would
parade around spreading the lukewarm gossip. Then again, Seifer also didn't
have much of an idea concerning the type of guy that Squall was - and
that was never a healthy basis for a chancy flirt.
Squall didn't seem
interested in the people around him, or anything that went beyond the edges of
his drawing pad, for that matter. He was serious to a fault, and
"humor" was probably a word that he had burned out of his vocabulary
with a flame thrower. Those characteristics of Squall were easy enough to
figure out. Now, if Seifer could only find an explanation for that sketchy,
almost scared flinch that was so common to his moves...
Well, it was worth a shot.
"Did you ice it at
all?" he asked softly and leaned closer to Squall, testing the waters.
"Don't touch
m--" the brunette yelped as he jerked away, but he fell silent the moment
he realized that Seifer had by no means attempted to touch, let alone harm him.
Seifer furrowed his brows
in bewilderment, but he did not retreat. The air had suddenly become very
tense, and the pressure was rising. They were sitting next to each other like
chicken on a rod, and neither their arms nor any other parts of their bodies
were actually in any kind of contact. Squall let out an exasperate breath, and
his fingers tightened around his marker, almost snapping it in half.
"Yes," he then
ground out through his teeth, trying to cover up the fact that he had almost
flipped over nothing at all. "I did."
The blonde regarded him
with a long, intense look that studied the brunette's perfectly chiseled
profile with barely hidden interest. Squall let his head droop forward, knowing
that the long, chunky strands of his dark brown hair would sway into his face
and hide it from view. It was one of the few things in life that he could rely
on.
"Right... so you iced
it, and then what?"
Squall looked up in
frustration, and even if no sound escaped his lips, his face told a story of
its own.
'Why can't you just
shut the fuck up and leave...?'
Seifer was almost amused
by the concept of being able to read any of the brunette's thoughts on the very
surface of his gale grey eyes. They were sparking and glowering, almost like
those kinds of clouds that delivered the most vicious of thunderstorms.
Squall's annoyance was painfully evident, but Seifer was too much of a hard head
and conqueror to act by what he saw.
"She bandaged
it," Squall explained blandly, his voice barely more than a whisper.
'Leave... just leave,
okay...'
Squall exercised some
quick, almost violent strokes upon his drawing, blackening the lines of the
lion that had suddenly sprouted wings. Seifer regarded it with curiosity, his
attention momentarily diverted from Squall's foot.
"A winged lion?"
he asked neutrally.
Surprisingly enough,
Squall's head whipped up from his sketch with a crack, and he glared at the
blonde in something that bordered to hatred. Seifer immediately put on his most
innocent and defensive expression, warily raising his hands.
"Hey, I was just
asking," he mumbled. "No need to jump down my throat, Squall."
The brunette was mildly
astounded that Seifer had actually remembered his name, and his frown smoothed
out, if only by a little. Sighing, he returned his gaze to his drawing,
regarding it with an expression that Seifer couldn't quite place. The brunette suddenly
seemed doubtful. Squall was most likely very judgmental over his own work; he
struck Seifer as being that kind of guy. Someone who was very harsh with
himself, and very unforgiving. It seemed almost typical, though Seifer had
never actually come across a person that was remotely like Squall.
Still, he felt like he
knew the brunette better than he should have.
"I like it,"
Seifer stated soothingly. "You've got mad skills, ya know."
'Like you know jack
shit about art. Why are you here, anyway? Don't you have some ditzy girls or
brain dead jock friends to hang with? What do you want? Pretending to be all
nice guy... you can't fool me. I know your kind. Bastard.'
Seifer grumbled inwardly.
Judging by the colors and emotions journeying through his eyes like the tides,
Squall was obviously a great talker within the walls of his own, reclusive
head, but he scarcely ever pried his teeth apart to speak with anyone but the
voices inside his mind. It made conversing sort of... difficult, to be
blatantly understating. Squall definitely had a temper, though, and attitudes
always managed to erect Seifer's interest.
"I bet it
hurts," the blonde tried vaguely.
Squall blinked at that
statement, and he slowly raised his head to meet Seifer's gaze, his breath
freezing in his throat. The blonde was smiling softly, but confusion meshed
with the spunk in his eyes when they fell upon Squall's wry face. Why did the
brunette suddenly look so thunderstruck?
Squall, on the other hand,
felt his heartbeat stilling in fear.
'Does he... he can't.
He can't. Calm down, there's no way that he'd kn-- shit, his eyes are
green. How can anyone have eyes that color? That's fucking hypnotizing. I
wouldn't even know how to draw eyes like that...'
The brunette quickly shook
his head from side to side, trying to banish those thoughts, and he focused on
Seifer's forehead instead. Not as appealing of a sight, but a whole lot less
distracting. Seifer tried to repress a snort of laughter at the cute image; he
had no idea why Squall was shaking his head like a dog with fleas and glaring
fiercely at his forehead, but it sure was fucking adorable.
'Not good Almasy, not
good.' the blonde
mused silently. 'This one's gonna be a tough nut to crack. Sure you're up
for this?'
"... W-what did you
say?" Squall finally asked, his voice low as if he was scared of drawing
any kind of attention to himself.
"Um," Seifer
stuttered in response, already oblivious to his own question. "Oh. Uh, I
meant your ankle. Does it hurt?"
Squall's gaze wandered to
his own foot, and back to Seifer's face. The brunette teen relaxed visibly, his
tight muscles unclenching one by one, and Seifer found that concept rather odd.
What did Squall think that he had been talking about?
"No," Squall
said demurely. "It doesn't."
"Are you gonna be able
to ride your bike?" Seifer asked, trying to keep the brunette from
recoiling into his shell.
Squall seemed disgruntled.
'Why the hell are you
asking so many weird questions? What do you want? Why did you help me
earlier? Are you trying to make fun of me or something? I don't even know you.
I don't want to know you, don't you get it? Who are you? And what do I
have to do to get rid of you?'
"A penny for your
thoughts," Seifer joked, crossing his arms at the crook of this neck as he
leaned backwards and smirked down at the brunette.
Inwardly, however, the
blonde was crumbling.
This definitely wasn't
easy at all. Why on earth was Squall so grouchy and evasive? Was he still sore
over their initial encounter? Seifer almost physically shook his head in a negative
manner to that question. Probably not. Most likely, this was just the way that
Squall always behaved himself. Seifer wondered whether that was a good
or a bad thing, or perhaps, a little bit of both.
"I can give you a
ride home, if you want," he offered generously, but not at all selfless,
when Squall remained silent. "We can put your bike on the back of
my--"
"I'm already getting
a ride," Squall severed his offer coldly.
Seifer arched a golden
eyebrow in mute surprise. This was surely unexpected, and it piqued his
curiosity. Who was giving the brunette a ride? Parent? Friend? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?
Distant relative from 'Planet Grouch'? Something that was more akin to jealousy
than he liked stirred within him and his handsome face slanted into a sarcastic
frown. He pried his arms from behind his neck and leaned forward, studying
Squall's face.
"Oh, really? And
who's taking you?" he asked, with more sting to the question than he had
intended.
Squall eyed him sourly,
barriers that had once disguised his antipathy now collapsing entirely, and it
was obvious that he was weary of the conversation. This Seifer guy was like a
sore - gifted with a nasty habit of appearing where you needed him the least,
and all the while downright annoying.
"What the fuck do you
want, anyway?" Squall inquired with a hiss of air, his voice now pure ice.
The question caught Seifer
off-guard, and he immediately flipped into defensive mode, too. This guy knew
well how to toss his switches, and he probably wasn't even aware of it.
"I was just wondering
how you were doing, grumpy ass," he snarled. "Jeez. So sorry I
bothered."
"No one asked you to
'bother' in the first place," Squall shot back, feeling the temperature of
his blood rising.
"Oh, is that
so?" Seifer sneered nastily. "Funny. You looked awfully like a
princess in need of her hero back there, or, how did the guy put it, your
'Prince Charming.' I merely answered the call."
It had been the wrong
thing to say, and Seifer knew it, too. Somehow, their conversation had gone
from ill to worse, and the blonde regretted his snide comment the very moment
that it had rolled off his tongue. He had never been any good at controlling
his temper, and he was well aware of the fact that he could be extremely
hurtful without even trying too hard. He had definitely rubbed Squall the wrong
way with his last comment, that much was for sure. Roughly, the brunette jerked
his sketchpad, marker and MP-3 player into his bag and jumped onto his feet,
not minding the pain that surged through his left leg in the process.
Seifer was still sitting,
wrestling up the humility to apologize without knowing what to really say, when
Squall's expression had already turned into one of concentrated venom and a
minute shade of hurt.
"I don't need a
fucking hero," the brunette spat scornfully as he slapped his bag onto his
shoulder. "I don't need anyone!"
And with that, he briskly
whipped around, stomping away from Seifer as fast as he could, and there was no
doubt at all in the blonde's mind that Squall would've run if his ankle
would have permitted it.
Burying his face in one
hand, Seifer let out an embryonic moan that echoed from the very depths of his
chest - or his heart, to be precise.
"Ahh fuck... smooth
move, Almasy. Way to go."
He considered going after
the brunette, but dispatched the idea as a bad one almost right away. If
anything, Squall probably needed space now, and cornering him would only result
in things becoming worse.
Seifer hissed rancorously.
"Great. Wisdom struck
you a little late, Einstein."
He stared in the direction
that Squall had run off to, then tilted his head into his neck to stare at the
distant, cerulean blue sky. The brightness caused his eyes to sting and water,
and he rubbed at them lazily.
'What are you doing?
Trying to punish yourself?'
He grunted.
'Who cares.'
Seifer heaved a deep,
guttural sigh and tore his gaze away from the heavens. He wasn't one for
self-chastisement, he never had been, but for just one moment he wanted to
really, really thrust his head into a concrete wall.
Hard.
- 3
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Whispered Screams