A/N: It's me! Back with another Seifer/Squall story. So you know now what I've been doing since I abandoned Slaying the Dreamer all those months ago... I wrote this little ficcy here and it wasn't until now that I finally decided to post it. I started Melancholy Requiem about 2 months ago, when the plot was haunting me. I finished it at about fifty pages last week (yeah, Melancholy Requiem is actually complete! Whee!), but I'm currently editing every chapter quite heavily – which means I'll post one after the other. I'm so sorry for not having written anything in so long, but be assured that Slaying the Dreamer will be continued eventually..! I'm very sorry for having put it on hiatus.
I would be insanely, and I really mean insanely, happy if you considered to review this. :) If you find any major flaws in it, please let me now and I'll consider re-editing it – I'm determined to make this a good story, somehow. You deserve that much from me after me having been so bad with not updating these past months.
I'll try to edit this fast so the other chapters get ready to be posted soon..! (I do a Eurotrip through France, Spain and Portugal for a month starting next week though, so it won't be finished until sometime during early September.)
Well, on with the story.
Plot:This story is about two strangers meeting up in a strange city, philosophizing about life, death and everything inbetween. Can brief encounters open you up or maybe even change your life? What does it even really mean to be alive...?
Drawn to each other, Squall and Seifer are about to clash and find out.
Warnings: Oops, it turned out pretty bad. Language, emotional violence, sexual encounters (not in this chapter yet..), drug usage... in short, all the good stuff. ;) Will contain pretty.. graphic... things, which I'll try to post somewhere else and give you the link. I guess it's fair to say that Melancholy Requiem is quite sexual overall. I'm a closet hentai. Well, not so closet anymore.
Timeline: Please notice that this is an AU-setting.
Disclaimer: The world of Final Fantasy VIII is not mine, but Squaresoft's or Sqaureenix's or Squeenix's or whatever the hell they're calling themselves now. Melancholy Requiem was named after a song on the Silent Hill 4 OST that I don't own either (in fact, the OST owns me, not the other way 'round.). The plot of Melancholy Requiem is based on a short story by manga artist Fuyumi Soryo, though I added much more depth and story to Soryo's concept.
Length: It's a rather short story. Four chapters + Epilogue.
by Cosina Veloce
Chapter 1: I'm a million different people
"I'm going to kill you," Squall hissed. His voice seemed very loud on this quiet day on a bench in a sidestreet of Deling City. The hand holding his cell phone trembled.
"Let me do it for you you," a relaxed voice came from next to him, and Squall didn't so much as look up, ignoring the voice.
He snapped his cell phone shut. The noise seemed loud and obstrusive in the empty sidestreet of Deling City, and Squall instantly regretted having made that sound that so violently disturbed the picture of slowly trailing down snow and watery, yellowish streetlights; a romantic scenario in which the sound of modern technology didn't seem to fit in. Squall was a fan of nature, secretly. Kind of ironic if you kept in mind that his father was the president of techno-city itself, and his mother was an earnest fan of collecting technology articles of all kind. Nethertheless, Squall had an eye for the beauty and purity of nature. The way it soothed him. The way it caressed his nerves. The way it would hopefully help him to return to his cool self in a moment...
"Hey," the voice from next to him called again, and Squall frowned to himself, the voice prominent in his auditory channel now, obstrusive, loud and entirely unpleasant. "Are you deaf?"
Squall just mumbled to himself.
Something came up, Laguna's shaky voice had stuttered. Squall took a wild guess that said something was probably acquainted by a pair of extra-sexy legs as opposed to the usual pair of sexy legs that kept him from doing his fucking duties. Fatheres weren't good for anything. Especially, it seemed, when they were super-rich and happened to be the president of Esthar. Squall dimly registered that he didn't even know when he had last seen his father, much less had spent much time with him. But Squall figured it didn't really matter either way...
"Hey!" the voice exclaimed, and this time, Squall felt a hand on his shoulder that spun him around, and Squall had to bite down on his tongue in order not to yelp. He saw himself confronted by a pair of green eyes that were narrowed with anger and embedded in the face of an entire stranger. "Do you think you're too good to talk to me?" The voice had lost its playfulness and had taken on an edge that was unmistakably threatening. It was a manly voice, and a deep one, Squall noticed as he mechanically removed the stranger's hands from his shoulders and stood up, turning to leave. Squall's lean body shivered as the wind picked up and tossed a handful of snow into his face, and he tugged his coat tighter, inwardly cursing not only Laguna, but also Deling and the weather and since he was at it, the world and everything in it, as well. And especially that weird stranger.
A round of hating was like cleansing to the soul, he had read somewhere a while ago. He thought he would have to give witty one-liners more credit in future as he felt a tremor of cold working down his spine, tensing his muscles and erecting his nipples underneath the furry coat that despite its thickness couldn't warm the young boy, who wasn't used to weather like this, having grown up and still living in the sunny Balamb that was never graced by the frosty elegance of snow even in the deepest of winter. When he was younger and it was Christmas, he used to sit with his mother underneath the Christmas tree, singing about snow and raindeers and all that baloney, and Squall would ask his mother where the fucking snow was. Well, he had his answer now.
"Do you speak my language?" the stranger asked, who apparently wasn't giving up. Squall stopped walking.
The brunette rolled his eyes dramatically.
"Maybe," Squall said.
"Beware, it talks," the stranger exclaimed.
"Funny," Squall answered unenthusiastically, trying to commence his walk, but stopping. He turned around to the stranger, silently weighing his options.
"Where's the hotel?" he asked. If he was forced to talk to him, he might as well take advance of it to get necessary information out of him and Squall reckoned he was as good as anyone to give directions. As he shifted his lazy gaze to look at the guy, he noticed how blonde he was, his hair the colour of genuine gold, and that he far outmatched him in terms of height and muscular attributes.He could tell, even though the other man was still sitting on the bench on which Squall had talked to his father on. My father, the president, he thought sulkily. They should make a movie out of this. Or a game, possibly.
The guy got up with a smirk that was entirely too confident for Squall's liking. "I can show you," he said, "if you let me treat you to some coffee," he added with a smirk.
Squall frowned. "Blackmail," he drawled. "Peachy."
"You have a Balamb accent," the guy remarked, then positively beamed as though he'd just answered the 1 million Gil question. Squall thought better of telling the guy that that realization hardly made him a genius as he just shrugged lazily. Most people noticed he was from Balamb, the drawling accent as thick as syrup sticking to his voice. It led to some funny reactions when he told people he was Laguna Loire's son, and it was pretty much the only reason why Squall had never tried to get rid of it. His life was so without giggles anyways. Wasn't a multi-million Gil heir of one of the most powerful men in the world with a peasanty accent just a fun thing? Well, it was funner than most things in Squall's life. Funner. Squall liked that word. It wasn't actually a word, but Squall liked it anyways.
"My name is Seifer," the guy informed him, even though Squall hadn't asked and hadn't been particularly interested in his name. At least he had enough common sense not to extend his hand and grin like an idiot, or, Hyne beware, even say the phoniest of all expressions right after 'how are you', which was 'nice to meet you'. The world was already too phony too bear.
"I live here in Deling. Well, right now, I'm staying at the hotel," the guy – Seifer, Squall reminded himself – continued, either unaware or outwardly ignoring Squall's lack of interest. Or both. Or neither. Or what the hell ever. Why was he even bothering?
"Who was that on the phone?" Seifer asked casually.
Squall frowned. "My father."
"Yeah, fathers make for trouble," Seifer nodded. "Be glad you have one, though. I never did."
"I didn't, either," Squall answered, before he could as much as think his response over, instantly regretting it. Seemed like having an irrensponsible father sooner or later rubbed off on you. Even if he was never there for you and actually didn't have much time to rub much of anything off on you. Had to be some kind of telekinetic thing.
Seifer remained silent for a second and just regarded the other man for a while. Squall didn't even try to read his mind or his gaze, too preoccupied with other thoughts to pay much attention to what the other man was thinking or feeling. In addition, the snow that was so peacefully trailing down and just adding to that wonder-fucking-fully peacefulness of a homey winter day was starting to slowly soak its way through his coat rather unpeacefully and all he really wanted was to find that fucking hotel, check in, leave for Balamb the next day and never think of this dreadful incident again.
"Must be really cold for somebody from Balamb," Seifer mused.
What an intellectual giant, Squall exclaimed inwardly. On the outside, he just glared at the other man.
"Don't you wanna get warm, then? Let's go and grab some coffee."
Squall frowned. "What for?"
Seifer laughed throatily. "You're so pretty when you frown, little one."
"Little one?" Squall echoed.
"Yeah, how old are you? 16... 17?"
"18." Squall answered, his voice bored and icy. He was still trying to figure out what exactly the other guy could possibly want from him.
Seifer whistled. "Not bad. You look younger, though. I'm 19."
It didn't happen very often that anybody bothered to talk to Squall, mainly because in his home town of Balamb, everybody already knew that Squall wasn't exactly what you would call a chatterbox, much less a very sociable person. If we're going to be precise here, there really wasn't any kind of sociability to speak of when it came to Squall, so everybody stayed clear of him, which was, as it so happened, Squall's preferred state. It only ever happened in other towns, such as Deling or Timber, that people - girls -did bother, though they were quickly scared off by his cold demeanor, and left him alone for good, which, again, was just how Squall liked it. It seemed to be tough for some people to wrap their mind around the concept of being introverted and some people came up with the funniest, Squall almost wanted to say 'cutest', theories about an abusive, alcoholic mother of Squall's (Raine never drank) or his missing father, who sucked his cock when he was a baby (like he had even been around when he was that age) or his living killer teddybear (Squall had never had any pets, not even stuffed ones) or any other bullshit imaginable. It was like people couldn't, or wouldn't, accept the fact that the brunette was just the way he was. No, he didn't cut himself. No, he wasn't bulimic. Yes, his father had never been around, but that didn't mean he was fucked mentally because of it. He might've had some autistic traits, but it wasn't because of some traumatic childhood or anything. And fuck, was it cold right now.
"You're quite the internal monologue type, huh?" Seifer interruped his thoughts, and the brunette looked up lazily.
Squall gave him a blank stare, turned around and without another word, started to walk away. He so wasn't in the mood to engage in silly little catfights with crittering lowlifes that roamed the street. Not that he was ever really in the mood for that...
Wanting to groan in annoyance, he heard the guy in question jogging up to him and smirking brightly at him. "Playing hard to get...? You're so ... cute."
Cute? I'm ... what? Am I teddy bear? A toddler with a toothy grin? A fucking kung-fu seal? Cute shouldn't be applied to any person over the age of five.
"I totally agree," the blonde man nodded busily.
Squall blinked in confusion.
Green eyes were rolled rather dramatically. "I just agreed with whatever thought you came up with in your pretty little head just now. I'm sure it was incredibly.. educating."
"You're weird," the brunette informed him.
Seifer grinned triumphantly. "Compared to who?"
The brunette leveled his icy gaze on Seifer's, but remained silent. "Let's go, then."
The blonde looked surprised. "Huh?"
Oh, wonderful, he was already annoying Squall. He was starting to seriously wonder if this guy was any more intelligent than his scatterbrained excuse of a father. He rolled his eyes once more. "That coffee?"
"Oh!" the blonde's voice lit up. "I thought, you..."
Squall had already gone ahead and was looking at Seifer expectantly. The blonde swallowed his words and jogged to Squall's side. Together, they started walking, the usually bustling and lively Deling City quiet and still around them. It wasn't even noon yet, and most people were working, which meant that the gentle rays of a not-yet forceful sun illuminated the winter day without busy people bustling around and destroying that image of peace. Snow is beautiful, Squall decided. What was less beautiful was the cold that accompanied it, but he'd just have to deal. Little needles were pinching into his face and head, the only skin Squall had to leave uncovered, his nipples almost painfully rubbing against the material from the inside. His nipples got so sensitive with cold that it was almost unbearable.
The blonde man by his side studied him as though he was a very interesting animal in a zoo, his eyes sparkling with interest, his gaze trailing up and down Squall's body with a kind of spectism he obviously didn't bother to hide. Seifer looked like he hadn't seen a human being in years. His behaviour quickly unnerved Squall, but he kept his mouth shut, quickly approaching the next-best bistro he could see, opening the doors and walking into the warmth, which felt awkwards against his skin and made him shiver.
He didn't even bother to get out of his clothes as he went to a table, sat down, and lazily waited for Seifer to join him, or the waitress to approach, whoever came first, Squall not really caring as his mind started to magically fill itself with pictures of Deling Hotel, which he hoped he'd soon get a chance to reside at and sleep for at least twelve hours. Squall thought he should've been born a cat or a bear, so he would be able to sleep for as long as he wanted whenever he wanted. Sleeping was really the only hobby he had.
He looked up as Seifer sat down, studying the man's handsome features, his broad jaw, green eyes, messily cut blonde hair. He was a handsome, very masculine man. Squall knew that he himself wasn't, that he would always be a pretty man, a beautiful man, but never the sort of man you saw starring in action movies or the kind you saw on the covers of fitness magazines. Seifer seemed to be more of that type, nothing pretty but everything masculine about his broad, strong neck and the shoulders he could make out through his heavy clothing, making Squall's own frail, thin body look like a twig compared to a tree. Squall frowned as he sensed an air of danger around him. Like he was more than met the eye, and not just because of the physical strength he seemed to have.
Something was tugging on Squall's mind.
The brunette cleared his throat. "How did you... want to kill him?"
Seifer looked distracted. "With a gunblade."
Squall had never heard of a gunblade before, so he raised his eyebrows.
Seifer chuckled quietly. "Like the name implies; a gun and a blade at the same time. I've been training with it since I was very little. It's my speciality."
"Had military training?"
"Yeah; I was in Galbadia Garden for a while.." he trailed off. "So, what did your father do?"
"Made me come all the way to Deling and didn't show up," Squall explained curtly. He didn't like talking, he usually didn't when he could avoid it, so his voice sounded a little unused and crackly even to him, even though it was soft and melodious, not high or girly, but very pleasant and gentle. Soft and nice, a stark contrast to his personality. He wished his voice could be icy and cold like the rest of him, just to make that image complete that most people had of him, since it had made a habit of amusing him greatly.
"That sucks," Seifer remarked. When Squall looked at him questionably, he added: "about your dad I mean. It's kinda sucky what he did."
For the first time that evening, Squall's eyes started to fill itself with interest, his lazy boredom fading, his face lighting up at Seifer's words. That sucks, Squall repeated in his mind. He hadn't said 'I'm sorry' or any of that phony bullshit. He had said the truth without being rude. For the first time, Squall looked at Seifer, really looked at him, slight interest awakening.
Squall cleared his throat, but found he couldn't think of anything to say. He just wasn't good with conversations.
Seifer's eyes hardened and they seemd to zoom his face in. The muscles around his thin, but nicely shaped lips tightened up as well. "Have you ever thought about killing yourself?" Seifer's tone didn't change, still as conversational as ever.
Squall looked up, narrowing his eyebrows in distrust.
"Doesn't everybody. Sometimes?" Squall said and shrugged, but his eyes which suddenly had a staring quality to them never left the other man's face.
Seifer's lips turned into a tight smile. "I didn't ask about everybody. I asked about you."
Squall hesitated and he thought.
He thought about all the times he'd felt empty, when he had so desperately wanted to feel life coursing through his veins, all the countless times he had been devastated at how to handle this world, the people in them, and the social code you had to follow or it meant your doom. The way you had to be nice to people even though you secretly despised them just to be another working part of society. Just so you wouldn't make enemies. Squall remembered how his heart had hardened. Gradually, slowly, but surly. He also briefly thought of his sister, Ellione, she who had disappointed him so gravely. But had he ever thought about suicide?
"No," Squall admitted after another pause.
Seifer nodded. "I see. It's true that most people do, though. Are you still in puberty or something?" His eyes held no humour when he said those things, they only spoke of a cruelty that seemed to be lurking just beneath his layer of what little manners he had. Squall, again, got the weird air from this man.
The brunette wrinkled his nose, but remained silent. Maybe he had been too quick to feel any sympathy towards the other man.
The waitress came, took their orders, and quickly retreated again, handing the two men over to a thick miasma of uncomfortable silence that hang itself over their heads as they each stared off into nothingness, not really knowing what to do with their hands and feet. Squall looked down at his hands as he was folding them, his fingers long, thin and pale, a silver ring on each middle finger. His hands were large and his fingers did look very masculine, but they were also very long and slender, almost elegant. The kind of hands you'd expect on a surgeon or a pianist. Squall's eyes trailed over and studied the other man's hands, which were resting, palms down, on the table. The brunette saw nothing but raw masculinity in them, the hand square, the fingers long and thin like his, but stronger, squarer somehow. But, for some strange reason, Squall thought that...
Thin eyebrows were laced into one deep, deep frown as Squall reached over and touched one of Seifer's hands with his own, comparing them, eventually taking it off the the table, putting his palm to the other man's. Seifer's hand was warm, almost sweaty against his own flesh. Squall stared at the two hands intently, before he eventually shifted his gaze to meet Seifer's surprised eyes. The brunette lowered his gaze again. But really, he hadn't been mistaken.
His hands were the same size as Seifer's.
Seifer started to smirk and Squall hastily withdrew his hand again, surprised at his own rash behaviour, knowing it was very, very, very unlike him to just go and touch a total stranger when it suited him, seeing as how Squall had never been known for being very much into the whole touchy-feely thing.
"I'm much taller and bigger than you, but your hands are, like, huge," Seifer mused. "Damn, maybe you aren't such a pansy after all." He smirked.
The waitress served their drinks and Seifer paid for them as if it was natural to do so. Squall wanted to pay for his drink, but the blonde just waved dismissively and even gave the waitress a generous tip, at which she blushed furiously at him and stuttered her thanks. She was a rather young but plain-looking waitress, apparently charmed by the young, muscular blonde hunk with the toothy smirk, an observation that didn't surprise Squall at the least. He could see why girls would be attracted to Seifer. To say that Squall didn't have much experience with the other gender would've been a blatant exaggeration, for Squall had little to none he could call his own. But he had read somewhere that they liked the obvious asshole type. He had also had the questionable pleasure to observe that tendency in his dear sister lately.
"I'll show you the way to the hotel as soon as we're done here.. it's in the main street, so you probably wouldn't have missed it anyways. Like I said, I'm staying there too, so it's not a nuisance to me," the asshole said conversationally. It then grinned. "It has a nice roof though, on which you can sit and see all of Deling. I could go up there with you and explain stuff about the city there, so you won't get lost next time your old man dumps you." He laughed.
As Squall looked at him, he felt the mistrust nagging at him, the uneasiness about the whole situation sliding into his mind.
"Why are... helping me? What exactly do you want?" Squall asked.
Seifer grinned. "Do people ever tell you you're weird?"
All the time, jackass.
Squall shifted in his seat, his eyes cooling down to a degree that had to be quite some way below zero. "Sometimes."
"Well, they're right. On the one hand, you seem like you just hit puberty, but on the other, there is something intriguing about you..." he trailed off. "Well, let's finish these drinks and get away from the bad air in here and that ugly cunt of a waitress." His eyes glittered.
Squall raised his eyebrows. "She's not ugly."
"She's a woman." Seifer shrugged.
Oh wonderful. Not only is he an obstrusive asshole, but a misogynist, too? Squall, you got so fucking lucky this time. Congratulations. Shoot yourself in the head and have a happy journey.
"I know you must've heard this a million times already, but: if I lived in your head, I'd charge you a fucking million for noise disturbance. It's gotta be louder than a fucking rock concert."
Squall just snorted as Seifer stood up and walked towards the exit. After weighing his options for a couple of seconds, the brunette got up as well and followed the other man.
They walked in silence towards the center of the city and the closer they got to it, the more people surrounded them, more and more pouring out of street corners, shops, everyhwere. Squall had never felt comfortable around others, but he actually enjoyed the people around them, because they didn't know him, unlike all of Balamb. In Deling, Squall was like everybody else. A stranger. Those people acknowledged his presence, but they didn't actually give a damn about him. Some might've thought he was attractive. Some might've briefly thought he looked like their son/friend/relative, but nevertheless was Squall surrounded by people, yet all alone in this city. All alone. It was a thought that was oddly comforting to him. He'd always hated the gossip and the closeness present in his little hicktown. It was ironic how surrounded you were in a small town and how alone you could feel among masses and masses of strangers. Squall distantly started to like the concept of the stranger.
Not long after they'd reached the main road did they enter the Deling City Hotel, a very nice-looking, big hotel, and Squall quickly checked in. Money had never been an issue, of course. They didn't exactly swim in it, but Squall and his mother had never had any reason to complain so far. Raine wasn't married to Laguna anymore, but she must've gotten a nice sum when she had him divorced all those years ago to soothe all that pain of losing the first lady rank and all.
After getting the keys to his room, Squall and Seifer both stepped into the elevator, and, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, Seifer pressed the button for the roof-floor, and before Squall knew it, the elevator was ascending. He shot an annoyed look into Seifer's direction.
"Who said I'd go up there with you?"
"Nobody," Seifer said, smirking. "Can't you just be thankful for everything I did to you?"
"Yeah, it was such a sacrifice on your part." Squall's voice was practically dripping with venomous sarcasm.
"Actually, it was. I'm sure if I had stayed out there longer, ignoring you, I'd have gotten laid with someone worthwhile."
Squall made a disgusted noise, at which Seifer broke out into amused laughter. Squall noticed that he had a very rich, throaty laughter.
The doors of the elevator opened and they stepped out, the cold immediately wrapping itself around Squall. Not again, he thought, unnerved, as his body tightened at the sudden assault of the cold, his nipples hardening underneath the fabric. He swore to himself he'd cut the blonde short and move his ass into his hotel room as soon as possible so he could fall into depression in peace. Warm, chatter-free, blonde-guys-with-huge-egos-free peace.
Looking around on the rooftop, he noticed that it was indeed a nice place to be. There were no other people beside them in sight, the roof didn't have any barriers at the edges, so that probably made the place extremely dangerous to children and thelike and therefore many probably avoided it. It was almost.. peaceful. Sure, they could hear the traffic below, but it seemed almost like an untouched spot of earth. Ridiculous once you took into consideration that they were on the roof of a 7 or so stages high building...
Seifer's amused noises snapped Squall out of his thoughts and he turned to look at Seifer, who was leaning against the wall, legs and arms crossed, huge smirk on his face. "What?" the brunette asked.
"A little overwhelmed, aren't we, Squally?"
The brunette snorted. He then pointed to the single bench at the edge of the roof.
Seifer looked surprised. "You want to sit down there? It's snowing, man. It'll be wet."
"You're free to keep standing here or going down," Squall answered coolly as he approached the bench, shoved the snow off it and sat down, shivering at the coolness against his butt. He could see the people walking around below him, and he watched them with fascination.
Seifer, of course, had followed him and lowered himself onto the bench next to him.
"Shit!" the blonde exclaimed, jumping off as if a crocodile had bitten into his ass. "Shit, shit, shit! That shit's cold! How can you motherfucker sit here without losing every feeling in your fucking ass?" he exclaimed, rubbing his butt.
Squall couldn't help feeling slightly amused.
The blonde eventually lowered himself again, all the while cursing under his breath. He actually seemed like he wasn't used to wet snow against his butt, either. Squall had figured everybody from Deling City had to be really comfortable with snow. Be it on their nose or against their precious behinds.
They sat in silence for a while, each taking in the atmosphere and witnessing how the day gradually darkened, the night approaching with big steps, coming to plunge the world into darkness. It wasn't even all that dark yet when many of the lights down in the city, the street lamps as well as some of the glittery neon signs, were switched on, the glow of them brilliant against the snow, colouring the white substance to red and green and yellow. Down there, it was loud. Up here, it was peaceful. The snow was coating Squall's lips, tickling his nose, wetting his hair, and it was quiet. No word was spoken between the two men. Snow was so beautiful. Romantic, calming. It touched something inside Squall that had been left untouched for a very, very long time, a spot inside him that nothing had been able to touch in what must've been years. For a very long time now, Squall had lost all memory of what emotion really felt like. Emotions, the whole arsenal of them, the good, the bad, the mediocre, had long since escaped his grasp.
He sighed and didn't know of what. Content? Regret? Happiness? Sadness?
But how could he when he hadn't felt any happiness or sadness, not even the slightest ounce of it, in years?
Squall didn't know how much time had passed (an hour? Two?) when Seifer's rich voice finally cut the silence. "Have you really never thought about killing yourself?" Seifer's voice was calm and velvety that night, clear and stroking. He had a very beautiful voice.
Squall thought, but his thoughts soon abandoned the question he had been asked, and instead started to roam freely. A thought that had been tickling the back of his mind escaped his mouth, a thought whose origin Squall couldn't quite grasp, a thought so strange and foreign that he was entirely unsure of what had caused it.
"Would we be dead if we.. jumped down there?" Squall asked quietly, so quietly that he wondered whether Seifer had even heard him. Squall looked down, saw the shiny streets, the whiteness, the people, and he wondered what it would be like to change that cluttered, yet oddly structured scene by throwing yourself off the building. You would fall, one perfect moment in which you weighed nothing, and in which nothing really mattered. One perfect little moment in which you saw the street racing towards you, but then people would jump away from you with looks of pure shocks on their faces, their high-pitched screams reverberating unpleasantly in your ears. The last thing you would ever hear. Then you would hit the pavement and – yeah, and then...?
"Probably," Seifer answered after a couple of seconds and Squall had to blink in order to remember what the question had been.
"The hotel is quite high," Seifer murmured lowly.
"Mh," Squall answered.
Thick silence hang itself over them again. It stopped snowing.
"If we jumped down there, people would think we were a couple and killing themselves because of their forbidden gay love," he said, amusement in his voice.
"I wouldn't jump," Squall said. "I would go into the sea with her.. even though every creature on this earth dies alone."
"Wow, could it be that you actually spoke your mind this time, Squall? I have to say.. your progress is fascinating."
Squall rolled his eyes. What a way to ruin the moment.
"No, seriously," Seifer said, "it's .. intriguing. You barely talked to me at all when I met you.."
"Have you thought about killing yourself?" Squall asked, not looking at the other man.
Squall fumbled with his pocket and produced a cigarette and a lighter, the flame that emerged from the lighter impossibly bright in this dark water painting of a scenery. Squall inhaled deeply, the smoke trailing upwards almost sensually.
"That's a disgusting habit," Seifer said. His voice sounded weak.
"You don't smoke?" the brunette asked quietly.
Squall said nothing.
"I think I would prefer to jump.. with him," Seifer said, after what seemed like an eternity, an eternity which had been passed by looking into nothingness, both lost in their own twisted world of thoughts. "It's supposed to be less painful than drowning. But, I have to trust him completely. If one of us hesitates and doesn't jump at three, we wouldn't die together." He hesitated. "Well, as together as we could that is, since, like you said, every creature dies on its own."
Squall hesitated. "You want to jump with.. 'him'?"
"I'm gay," the blonde said disgustedly. "Haven't you noticed?"
"... Should I have?"
"Yeah. Just because I don't look gay like you doesn't mean I'm not."
Squall grumbled in dismay, but didn't reply.
The blonde man laughed throatily. "If that little grumble meant 'I don't look gay' then there's only one thing I have to say to that: yeah, right."
Squall just continued to suck on his cigarette, not looking at Seifer but lolling his head back and looking up. The firmanent was clear that night, and there were several stars shining down at them, merrily blinking and saying hello from so far away. The night that had brought those stars had now completely swallowed the light of the day. It was complete, utter night on this winter day in Deling City, probably well after ten PM. They had sat in comfortable silence for so long...
Squall threw his cigarette down into that sea of neon colours that was shimmering up from the city.
"The lights from the city are incredible,"Seifer mused.
Squall just mumbled his agreement.
The blonde shifted himself so he he could stare at Squall's profile. "Are you still a virgin?"
Squall's eyes widened. "What?"
"You heard me," Seifer chuckled. "I asked if you were a virgin or not."
Squall shot Seifer a look that suggested murder then demonstratively turned away to gaze at the stars once more.
Seifer laughed. "Oh, right. We share death fantasies, practically philosophize about life together, and you won't even tell me that? True, we don't know each other well at all – but maybe that's just why you can open up to me while you can't to your fellow little sea peasants? You can say things to me without them seeming completely real because I'm not yet a real person to you, right?"
Squall whipped his head around to stare into the other man's face, and he had to swallow as he saw himself confronted by a pair of deep green eyes, that were currently glittering with joy and interest, even though his rather aristocratic, nicely shaped face showed nothing but utter seriousness. The smirk that was usually playing around his lips was painfully missing.
For a while, they just stared at each other.
Squall was a virgin, of course. By choice. There had just never been a girl he had been interested in, not even sexually. He didn't beat off to girly magazines like he knew most of the other guys his age did, nor did he do it to any other pictures on his computer or wherever else they got it from. He jerked off under the shower thinking about nothing, nothing but the feeling of his hand wrapped around his cock and the water trailing down his body and what pleasure that brought him. He'd never even kissed anybody – apart from his mother when he had been really little, but that hardly counted.
"Maybe I am," Squall finally said and stood up. With small, careful steps he walked towards the edge of the roof, looking down at the busy people and the yellow and red and green light from the neon signs advertising night clubs and bars and shops.
He heard Seifer standing up behind and walking towards him. It caught Squall completely off guard when he suddenly felt the strong arms of the other man wrapping around his body, and for one second, in which his heart contracted in his chest, he lost balance, and the streets, the lights, the nirvana of that city came closer to make him think he would fall. He briefly thought he would pass out before the blonde's arms pressed him tightly against his chest. Squall could taste his own heartbeat at the back of his throat.
"Are you crazy!" the brunette exclaimed, struggling against the bigger, bulkier man. "You could've pushed me down the.. mmpf!"
Seifer forcefully pressed his lips against Squall's, his tongue leaking out to lick Squall's lips. The blonde then used his own jaw to open the brunette's almost violently, inserting his tongue into that velvety cavity, taking Squall's kissing virginity as his probing tongue ran across the other man's teeth, licked his inner cheeks, then went on to lick the other man's unmoving tongue, mixing their saliva. Seifer's tongue was hot and.. kind of arousing in Squall's mouth, his saliva tasting of rain and the faint trace of cigarettes and peppermind chewing gums which he had probably consumed not too long ago. As Seifer's soft tongue started to lick Squall's with more demand, the brunette started to reciprocate, going with the flow as their tongues started to rythmically circle each other, making wet sounds as their saliva melted together. Squall gasped against the other man's mouth as he felt Seifer's hands on his ass, pushing Squall's body closer to his own. He could feel that Seifer was rock-hard and that his hands were eager, one squeezing the brunette's right ass cheek, the other slipping beneath the fabric of his clothes to run over his lean chest, brushing his fingers against Squall's erect, sensitive nipples. Squall couldn't help but moan against the blonde's mouth at the sensation.That's when the taller man pushed away, panting.
"It's too cold to continue that here," Seifer muttered. "Why don't we go into my room?"
Squall blinked. He was confused by what had just happened. He'd never thought about men that way.. and he hadn't thought about that particular man in front of him that way either until now. With dismay, Squall noticed that he still had an erection in his pants, just begging to be freed and stroked. Since when had he turned into yet another one of those dorky, horny teenager like all the rest of them?
Wait a minute.. there was definitely something off here. Squall's erection vanished at the sobering realization.
Seifer grinned at him. "We were so depressed and there's no better way of getting rid of this funk than getting horny. Our primal instincts quite effictiently wipe out all coherent thought, don't they?" he laughed, but it sounded half-hearted. Seifer's eyes were still shining with lust, his cheeks were flushed, and Squall could also see that the blonde was still hard. He had to swallow yet again.
"Was that your first kiss?" Seifer asked conversationally.
Squall just gave him a look that suggested he'd do nothing with more pleasure than rip the other's throat out.
"Oh, okay, I'll shut up," Seifer smirked. He stepped closer once more. "So, what about it? Shall we go into my room..?"
The moment is broken and you know it.
"I'm going into mine now," Squall answered. He was starting to get aware of how cold it really was now.
The look of Seifer was totally, utterly comical. "What?"
Squall rolled his eyes. "Good night, Seifer."
"Hey, wait!" The blonde grabbed the smaller man by the wrist and spun him around.
The brunette had to inhale sharply when Seifer's green vaccuum cups glittered and spilled venom at him, so intense eyes that they were almost hypnotic. He could smell traces of Seifer's scent, that faint oily, yet spicy odour that was partially hidden by his fresh, lemony deodorant. Or was it cologne? If it was, Squall knew he favoured Seifer's natural smell over the cologne, which was, despite its lemony freshness, not half as intriguing or interesting as that spicy scent just underneath...
"I trust we will see each other tomorrow?" Seifer asked. His eyes were hard.
Squall shook his head. "I'm leaving for Balamb tomorrow morning."
Seifer smirked. "No, you're not."
The brunette blinked, irritated. "Why, yes."
"No, because I'm going to show you around Deling tomorrow. Or, do you want to lose the only person you could ever open up to?"
Squall wanted to spit into this annoyingly handsome face, wanted to ask him how the hell he thought he knew what he was doing, to him, or to anybody else, if he knew just how arrogantly he was behaving. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He shut his mouth again. He heard the faint chatter of people and cars honking, and while he had enjoyed the noise like a distant orchestra before, it was now almost violently forcing itself into his ears, the sound loud in his head. His head started to ache, a dull pain just behind his eyeballs, and he blinked in pain.
"Deling City is a really nice city and I know you can afford staying here for another day, those clothes look darn expensive. I could show you around, to the parks, to the -"
"Whatever," Squall waved his hand dismissively. He then glared at Seifer as he shifted his eyes up to meet the other man's.
Seifer smiled. "That's a yes, then?"
Squall groaned, but both knew that it was indeed a yes. Without another word, Squall turned to leave. Just before he stepped into the elevator, he heard Seifer's voice again, yelling: "Good night, Squall! It was nice meeting you!"
So he had said that phony line after all. Oddly enough, though, given the situation, it was probably kind of.. appropriate.
A deep frown was carved into the brunette's features as he pushed the buttons of the elevator.
to be continued