Warnings: language, homophobia, boyxboy relationship/s, unbeta'd due to complications.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything on this page other than the plot.

To FinalFallenFantasy: I really hope your computer is fixed soon! (I know I would just about die without mine...can't imagine the anguish you're going through) but yeah, no pressure in beta'ing this, just let me know so I can replace this with the shiny version :D Thanks again!

Chapter 3:

I wake up Saturday. I'm tired. No, beyond tired. I feel almost dead, the events of Friday seeping back into my brain. I just want to curl up under my covers and block it all out. I can't though. I'm supposed to be meeting Seifer at half twelve to start our...project. Safe to say I don't feel up to it.

She was drunk last night. Hammered. Surprise surprise. I'd expected it from how she'd looked that morning, lost and unsure. I'd been stupid enough to hope she wouldn't though. Yeah, that hope pretty much shattered when I found her. In the bathroom. Again. This time I didn't help her. Didn't hold her hair back, wash it, get her to bed. I let her get on with it, the anger rushing through me too much to bear at that moment in time.

I will myself to sit up in bed and drag a hand through my hair. It's knotted and greasy and I wince as my fingers are caught in the strands. I stand up, my head beginning to throb, and grab my clothes in one hand, heading to the shower.

One look around the bathroom sends a sharp sting of guilt. It's wrecked. The faint smell of vomit, still pungent, tells me all I need to know. That and the fact it's practically smeared over the bowl. I glance around at the knocked over bottles and sigh, dropping my clothes in a relatively 'clean' area and bending down to reach for the cloth. It's in the cupboard, and I pull out various cleaning equipment, noticing we're low on just about everything. Not surprising. I end up using it at least three times a week.

I scrub. I don't even really pay attention to what I'm doing, it's become second nature to me now. If I don't clean I can guarantee no one will. I pour the bleach into the cistern. I hope she's not to bad. I hope she hasn't hurt herself. The guilt grows. I should have helped her last night, even if I was feeling pretty down because of...Roxas. Another topic I wanted to avoid thinking about.

I finish, piling the cleaning products back into the small cupboard and shutting it carefully. I don't take long getting into the shower, my night gear has literally stuck to me like a second skin and I absentmindedly note to wash it.

It feels so good, the shower. I like them either hot or cold. Hot as in burning hot, so my skin becomes red raw and puffy. I have showers like these when I'm angry or dirty. And when I say dirty I mean all kinds of dirty. If I've done something wrong and just feel dirty, or If I genuinely am dirty. I like them ice cold at times when I just feel numb. Like when I can't bring myself to feel. Like when...


My skin is bright pink when I step out the shower, and my hair still vaguely dirty. We couldn't afford decent shampoo, so I was stuck using shower gel on my hair (which can I just tell you is definitely not good for hair usage). Yeah my hair felt like it was just one big knot, but on the bright side it felt clean (though it most definitely wasn't). Maybe it was psychological or something. It felt more clean then before.

I dress in the bathroom. It's just a habit I guess. I hate being naked round the house, and just about anywhere really. Don't really know why. I don't exactly love my body if you catch my drift. That may have something to do with it.

Once I'm fully dressed (combats, T-shirt...I don't exactly have much to choose from) I make my way to the kitchen, passing the empty bedroom, and dreading the sight. I had good reason to.

She's slumped across the table, her hair covering her face, arms disjointed and uncomfortable, and empty bottle of whisky by her side. I never even knew she'd bought it. She looks up, and I wish she didn't. Wish she'd just kept her face on the table. It was pale, her lips pale, her skin pale. It looked like she'd just been white washed. Oh, but her eyes weren't pale. They were bloodshot, so much so it looked like they were bleeding.


Her voice cracks. I wince and look away, my eyes drifting over to the counter.

"Yeah mom?" I ask quietly.

"Could you fetch me a drink please honey?"

I don't even ask what kind of drink she means. I know she means alcohol. And I know I'm getting her a glass of water.

"Hayner?" she sounds confused as I hand her the glass.

"Just drink it mom. It'll make you feel better," I say. She nods, gulping it down. I sigh. She should have sipped it.

I glance at the clock on the wall. Half eleven. One hour before I have to be filmed falling over in various ways by a guy who undoubtedly hates my guts. Joy.

"Hayner honey, I'm gonna.." I watch as she stands up jerkily "..have...have a shower,"

I move forward, grabbing her elbow and steering her towards the bathroom.

"Okay mom," I say, opening the door and walking in with her.

"Just have a shower," I mutter, leaving to fetch a clean towel. Another thing I need to wash. I walk back to hear the shower running, and quickly fling the towel into the room, leaving the door ajar just in case.

It's not fair really. Having to look after her. That's her job. My friends, their parents do everything for them. Cooking, cleaning. Not in this house. It's the other way round. And it's suffocating me. It's why I spend as much time out as I can. It's why Friday hurt so much. Roxas knows. He knows this (well most of it). I don't want him to treat me differently because of it. I just thought...

I hear the shower stop and take my head out of my hands. I barely even noticed I'd put it there. I hear rustling sounds and hastily stand up, heading back into the kitchen. There's nothing to eat and my stomache's persistent growling is a constant reminder of this.

Sighing, I glance at my watch. It's twelve. I spent the last half hour babysitting my mother. They say time flies by when you're having fun. It does. Of course it does, when you're having fun time is irrelevent. You never want it to end. And that's fine. See, time also 'flies by' when you're on autopilot. When you're not thinking. That's also fine. It's not fine when you start thinking. Soon as you start thinking about things time begins to slow. Soon as you start hating on yourself it's as if time wants you to have as long as possible, just to make sure you're sufficiently self-loathed. It's true what they say I guess. Time is a killer.

I grab my bag, yet again cursing Roxas's idea of a joke. Roxas. I don't want to think about him. It hurt too much. As I reach the door I hear a faint call.


She's dressed herself I'll give her that. Shame her T-shirt is on inside out.

"Yeah mom," I sigh without much conviction.

"Where are you going?"

Oh, so now you care.

"Out," I don't have to elaborate with you.

"Where out?"

You sound angry. What gives you the right to sound angry?

"To meet some friends,"

Friends. Yeah right.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Because you were drunk out your freaking mind.

"Because you were...busy,"

"Oh. Be careful,"

I watch as she slouches back into her room, one foot trailing behind the other and control my shaking. I don't know why I'm shaking, but I am. My hands are trembling. From anger. It has to be from anger. I'm so freaking angry at her right now I could kill something. Yeah.

I slam the door. She won't even notice, but it makes me feel better. Like I'm acting like a normal rebellious teenager, slamming doors and breaking curfew. Well, I would if I had a curfew. Why am I complaining? You probably think I'm dead lucky. No curfew, mom who doesn't care. It's exactly that. She doesn't care.

I feel slightly better as the wind pulls at my hair. I always feel more relaxed skating. It helps me to calm down. And I really need to calm down considering who I'm about to meet.

I turn off into the park and check my watch. Oh no I'm five minutes late. If you couldn't already guess, that was sarcasm. I see Seifer standing off to the side by one of the ramps. He should have looked every bit out of place, standing with various camera equipment, but no. He fitted. Come to think of it I've never seen Seifer look out of place anywhere...

"Oi Lamer," I raise my head at the taunt, skidding to a halt and stepping off my board.

"What?" I ask, my eyes narrowing.

"Late," my eyes drift to the person who had just spoken, and narrow even further at who I saw (it was surprising I cold still see by how narrow they'd become). Fuu and her boyfriend, Rai. At least I think they're dating. Sure looks like it. They deserve each other from what I've seen. One who doesn't talk in sentences and one who constantly repeats the phrase 'y'know?'. And I mean constantly. Every lesson with him is torture.

"Yeah I'm late. Why are they here?" I ask Seifer, narrowing my eyes. I don't care if they hear me. I don't care if they hate me.

He leans in slightly, and I find myself stepping back automatically.

"Because they are. You gotta problem with that?" he growls. I roll my eyes at how mobster he is sounding.

"The only problem I have is with you," I glare witheringly at him, crossing my arms across my chest. He shrugs, moving towards the equipment and grabbing this strange...thing. He seems to notice my confusion and turns to face me, smirking.

"What, don't know what this is, lamer?" he asks. My face reddens slightly.

"I know what it is," I hiss, hoping he won't...

"Then what is it then?" ...ask me. I look away, haughtily.

"Like you don't know, " I say, tilting my head slightly, hiding my blush.

"You don't know what is is do you?" he says condescendingly.

"Shut up. I bet 'y'know' over there doesn't either," I huff, jabbing a thumb at Rai.

"It's a tripod, y'know?"

He just had to know didn't he. Rai, tall, muscular, dark, and with less brain cells then a mollusk, just had to know.

"Lamer," Seifer chuckles, smirking at me.

"Shut up," I'm just feeling so articulate today. My blush deepens as they laugh (why am I even blushing?). I'm mature though. I'm an adult. So I do the adult thing and flip them off, walking over to my board.

"It's so the camera is steady," Seifer continues, pointing to the contraption which I have suddenly decided is my least favourite object, second to my bag.

"Yeah. Whatever," I mutter.

I swing my bag off my shoulder and drop it.

"What should I do then?" I ask, pointing at the camera. Seifer looks at me like I'm stupid.

"You seriously just ask that, lamer?"

"I know I need to skate. What I need to know is what you want me to do," I ask, restraining myself from face palming. I could have done without this, especially today.

"I need you to fuckin' skate," Seifer growls, his face growing confused. I can't resist it any longer. I face palm spectacularly.

" I mean what should I do? Should I do a trick? A manual? A fucking aerial? Or maybe you want me to grind that rail front side?" I suggest sarcastically. As I expected, Seifer had no idea what I was speaking about, his face confirming this.

"Speak english, lamer," he growls. I smirk.

"I thought you could skate?" I ask condescendingly.

"I can skate, bitch," he hisses "it's just no human being could possibly have any idea what the fuck just came out of your mouth,"

I kick my board towards him. I cannot tell you the glee I felt as it collided with his ankle. Let's just say it was pretty gleeful.

"The fuck was that for?" he asks, and mollusk..I mean Rai starts towards him before being waved off.

"I'm fine, jeez," he hisses at the other. Then he turns to me. I shrug.

"You were being a dick," I say lightly, catching my board with my heel as it is kicked back towards me.

"Whatever. Just skate in from over there," Seifer commanded, gesturing right.

"Just skate?" I ask. He shrugs.

"Whatever," he muttered, attaching the camera to the thing and pushing various buttons. I nod, though he can't see, and skate in the direction he vaguely pointed to, turning and waiting for a signal. I'm about to ask what it is when an angry "Fucking go then," is shouted out, and I push off. I set my sights for the rail and ollie, landing my trucks on either side.

There. Done. I can't help the grin on my face as I land, turning to face the camera, unable to wipe it from my face in time. Great. It's been caught on film.

I watch as Seifer picks up his thing and moves somewhere else. I make to follow him, but he stops me.

"No. Stay there, chickenwuss,"

So I do (looking like a bit of an idiot if I say so myself).

"Now do it again," he demands. I blink.


He sighs.

"Just do it," he snaps. And I do. Ten freaking times. Why the hell do I need to do the same trick ten freaking times? I ask him.

"Because, lamer, we needed to shoot it from more then one angle. Plus your third take was shit," he says, bluntly. I grind my teeth.

"And what about the other nine?" I asked angrily. He shrugs, having the nerve to look nonchalant.

"Needed more angles, lamer," does he have to call me 'lamer', 'chickenwuss' or 'bitch' every other sentence?

"Listen here fuckface, I..."

My angry tirade is cut short by the presence of a familiar face. I don't know the guy by name, but he's one of the local 'hardcore' skaters. Safe to say I don't really like him, and the feeling is likely mutual.

"You still teetotal?"

I turn to face him and notice, with distaste, the bottle hanging from his fingertips. So casual. It makes me sick.

"Yeah I am actually," I say, crossing my arms across my chest. I watch as he grins, taking a swig of the fucking stuff.

"You sure," he taunts, waving it towards me.

"Yes, " I say, my voice showing I am deadly serious. He shrugs, swaying slightly.

"You're losss," he slurs, stumbling away.

"Stupid fuck," I mutter under my breath.

"Hey, you know him?" I look at Seifer, shrugging.

"Not really," I sigh. It' true. Half the people here I don't really know. Maybe I'm exaggerating. Maybe that boy was being dare I say 'nice' in offering me some drink. I mean, he doesn't know does he? Maybe it's just me. But as soon as I see them drinking I hate it. I dislike them almost immediately. I mean sure, we've got some issues over the music, but maybe they're not that bad. Maybe I'm blowing it out of proportion because of the drink. But I can't help it.

"You don't drink?" Seifer asks, sounding incredulous.

"No. Why'd you ask?" I say sharply. He raises an eyebrow.

"No reason," he says slowly "you seem the type though," he adds, almost as an afterthought. My fingers clench. I seem the type do I? I seem the type to forget I have a son? That I have a life other then that...that fucking drink? That I often wake up in my own vomit, shivering, remembering the reasons why I drink...

I am nothing like my mother. Or my father. If I truly took after my parents I'd be in a home somewhere having tried to drown myself in vodka.

I'll admit it. It wasn't Seifer's fault. He didn't know. There was no way he could have known. That still didn't stop the fact I was pissed off.

I don't think I even looked at him, just turned and grabbed my board, leaping onto it and ignoring the cries of "Oi, lamer!". I was so ready to just skate out and forget this. I think the fact I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going might have been the reason what happened, happened.

I got hit. Not by a fist, no, it wasn't malicious at all. Just one of those wrong place wrong time things. But someone slammed into me, full speed, on their board, causing me to fly off and skid backwards along the concrete, some random person sprawled on top of me. I felt the weight lift, and saw him stand shakily to his feet.

"Fuck! You should watch where you're going," he shouted at me. Why wasn't I shouting back? Maybe the fact my back had been practically ripped open from the force of the blow and I was in quite a bit of pain from it. And by 'quite a bit' I mean a fucking lot.

"Shit! Oi, lamer, look at me," I tilt my head and see Seifer, hovering above me, an unfamiliar expression across his face. Had I not been in so much pain, I'd have probably noticed this, but I was, so I didn't.

"You could have fucking killed me!" the guy who'd it me was still complaining. He should have thanked me. He'd practically used me as a cushion, and let me just say, he wasn't exactly light.

"Shut the fuck up," oh that was Seifer talking again.

"Not till he apologizes!" and how was I supposed to do that?

"You were the one who rammed into him," Seifer sounded quite angry. Don't know why though. Must be pissed at the guy for interrupting our argument.

"He came out of nowhere, of course I hit the teetotal prick!" did everyone know I didn't drink at this park or something?

"Dude, you should just calm down y'know?" that'll be mollusk speaking. I groan slightly as I force myself onto my elbows. I bat away Seifer's hand (why was he offering me help anyway?) and drag myself to my feet. The pain had kind of subsided now. It just stung. I grab my bag, hooking it over my arm rather then across my back, grab my board and walk, deciding against skating.

"Oi, lamer!" I continue to ignore him. Which is kind of hard to do once he's caught up with me.

"What?" I spit angrily, stopping and whirling round to face him. He looks taken aback slightly. I notice how far I've walked. We're no longer in the park, now just in the street. Seifer's bodyguards aren't here meaning it's just me and him. Him and me.

"What was all that about?" he demands. I shrug, playing dumb. He grabs my arm.

"You just walked off," he hisses, digging his nails in. I wince slightly, not sure if he was referring to the first time, or the second. I don't answer, and after a bit he just let's go.

"Fuck off Seifer. Go hang with your bodyguards," I sneer. I see him twitch.

"They're my friends, bitch, something you seem to lack," he growls. I wince. There's not really a reply to that, considering it's true. I just look away.

"Oi, being serious here. Where is Roxas?" I smile tightly at him, my dry lips almost splitting from the motion.

"Probably fucking his boyfriend," I say venomously. There's a silence which doesn't seem to want to end, and I watch as Seifer seems unsure of what to say.

"Want to go to the beach?" someone asks. That someone turns out to be me, I realise in horror that I'd spoken, yet again my mouth has acted before my brain. Where had that come from though? I realise at this moment, that not only have I acted stupidly, but I'm going to have to pay for that by hearing Seifer...

"Yeah, whatever,"

...reject me verbally (he'll probably hit me) and...wait. What?

I look at Seifer, taking in his hunched posture, his hands balled up in his pockets. It's almost as if he's refusing to look at me.

"What?" I ask, dumbly, like I can't believe it. I can't really believe it.

"I said yeah fucktard. Not like there's anything else to do" Seifer growls, trailing off at the end.

So that's how we end up at the beach. Me and him. Him and me. Me, Hayner and Seifer. It's unheard of. Anyone who saw us would have been shocked (well...providing they knew us obviously).

"Is Roxas really with that guy?" Seifer asks. We've ended up sitting on a bench facing the sand and the sea.

"Axel? Yeah. What of it?" I ask, suspicious. He shrugs.

"Nothing. Just never thought he swung that way," he muttered. I lean back.

"Guess it's hard to tell with some people" I bite. He looks at me strangely and I ignore it. I realise something.

"Where's all your camera stuff?" I ask.

"Rai took it for me," I didn't need to ask why. He'd come after me for some unknown reason. Not that I minded. No.

"He's not thick," he says suddenly. I look at him strangely. Yeah. Right. He catches my look.

"Seriously. He just takes longer to get it," if he ever 'get's it'. I feel slightly guilty for thinking this, but brush it off. If I started down that road I wouldn't make it out alive.

"Whatever," I shrug.

"He's smarter then you at any rate, lamer" he says, glaring at me. I take offence at that.

"Shut. Up," I say, slowly. Just so he understands. Prick. You try to be nice...

It's weird. You'd think we'd start arguing at that point. Fighting even. But no. We just...talk. It's strange talking with someone who obviously hates you. It got so borderline friendly almost that I couldn't help but ask.

"Want to get ice cream?"

"What, sea-salt?" he asks. Yet again, no rejection.


"Yeah, okay," he says gruffly. We both stand up awkwardly and head over to the shop. I can guarantee that 'what am I doing?' is running through both our heads. It's weird. As we order. Dare I say nice? I like it. The lack of fighting. True, I love the fighting. When I'm in the mood it's great. Fun. Exciting. When I'm not it's the last thing I want to do. I'm not much in the mood, so not fighting is a-okay with me.

I gasp. The ice-cream drips slightly.

"What?" Seifers asks, one eye brow raised. I gesture towards the sea-salt.

"Too cold," I mutter, bringing it slowly to my lips this time. I watch as Seifer averts his gaze.

"Can't handle it?" he taunts. I huff, biting down on it. Like I can't handle it. It stings my teeth but I bare it and swallow, grinning at him.

"That answer your question?" I quip, tossing the stick to the ground.

"Your back okay?" I must have looked shocked as he immediately back peddled.

"Just don't want you bitching to me about it when we do the filming," he looks away.

"Whatever. It's fine, stings like a bitch, but I'll live," I say, coming across alot more tough then I felt. It stung like hell. Wasn't about to let him know that though. Give him some leverage on me? No way.

"I've gotta go," I stand, grabbing my board. Seifer looks as if he wants to say something, then gives a nod. I nod back, and jump onto my board ignoring his shouts of "walk, lamer! You're gonna kill yourself,". I just turn, give him a self assuring grin, and carry on skating. Back to my house. It was hard skating whilst carrying a bag on one arm, but there was no way I was putting on.

I really need to check my back out when I get back. My T-shirts been ripped open, my skin obviously cut and it's probably got gravel and dirt in it. Which is a bitch considering I won't be able to clean it properly. I'll have to have a hot shower which will no doubt aggravate it, and absolutely kill. It'll be clean though. I sigh slightly. This would be a whole lot easier if Roxas were here. In fact, if Axel had never come along. My life is hell, and I know it, but it would be a whole lot hellish if there were someone there. If Roxas hadn't fucking betrayed me.

I'm so angry I barely notice the shoes in the passageway. But I do notice them, and as soon as I notice them my anger increases, my breathing erratic as I spy the size eleven shoes. She did it again. She fucking did it again. I run into the living room and grab him. I know he'll be there. He's about two feet taller then me, but I am pissed so it's easy enough to practically throw him into the hallway.

"The fuck?" he shrieks. I get a good look at his face. It's what his name. Jerry? Joe? Hell, it might not even begin with a 'J'. I don't care either, grabbing his shirt and pulling him towards the door. He pulls back.

"Wha' the fuck are you doing you little shit?" he hisses, slamming me back into the wall. Which hurt by the way. Not that I exactly notice at this point. I'm too angry.

"Get. Out," I scream, pointing towards the door. He seems taken back by the sheer volume of my voice.

"Jesus, shut up kid. She called me, she fucking called me," the thing is I know she did. I know she called him. It's always the same.

"She doesn't need you," I say through gritted teeth. My hands are balled into two tight fists, ready to swing. He backs up slightly.

"Fuck you're crazy. You're both fucking crazy!" he grabs his shoes and I shove him as he reaches down.

"Get out!" I spit. He scrambles upwards, yanking the door open.

"You're psycho," he shrieks "get some fucking help," he slams the door shut. And I'm alone. In the corridor. My back is on fire, and my skin is red hot, burning red hot, my throat raw from screaming. But I don't care. I walk into the living room and approach her where she's lying on the sofa, crumpled. Used.

"Why? Why mom?" I shout, ignoring the fact I'm breaking a key rule. Never shout at her.

"Hayner?" her eyes are glassy, like she's not really there.

"Why do you keep calling them mom? You don't need them, they don't love you,"

"Shut up," she holds her hands over her ears, clenching her hair, damp with grease "you don't...you don't know a-anything Hayner,"

"You promised me mom. You promised you'd stop calling them," I shout. I can feel this tension building up behind my eyes and it's similar to tears, only I know it can't be tears because I don't cry. I can't cry. I spy her phone on the coffee table by the sofa and make a grab for it, opening the back and removing the sim card.

"You have to stop doing this mom,"

I don't even know what I'm referring to at this point. The drink. Her exes. The amount of times I've arrived home and found that extra pair of shoes. Seen her with yet another man.

"I...I w-was lonely," she hiccups, and my eyes begin to burn. I put an arm awkwardly around her, and once again I'm on autopilot, the anger gone.

"I know mom. I' m sorry," and I am. I don't know why but I'm sorry. I'm guilty. And I hate it.

An hour later and she's in bed. I'm hungry, starving, the only thing I'd eaten was that ice-cream, and with a jolt I realise I hadn't even paid for it. Seifer must have. I clench my fists. I can't even afford an ice-cream. My enemy had to buy me an ice-cream. How pathetic is that?

I log into facebook. I don't know why, I should really try sleeping. But I do. I opened the old laptop and leeched onto someone else's internet. So what if it's slow, it's still there. I have messages. There's one from Axel surprisingly.

...why couldn't you have just fucking left it? Roxas is really...

I click back and ignore it, instead clicking on one of Roxas's.

...come on Hayner fucking answer me. Where are you? You left yesterday and...

He sounded concerned. Strange considering he'd just betrayed me. I'm glad though. Glad that he's concerned. Because as much as I don't want it, I need the hope that he gives me. That my best friend gives me. I know if he genuinely betrayed me, I wouldn't be okay. Not at all. No, he'd never really betray me. He hit me, but I deserved it. I always do. Wait, he's never hit me before yesterday. I mean when I get hit. I don't know what I mean. I need to sleep.


...looks like mom's up.


Review? I'll love you! And so will Hayner. At least give him some love!!

I don't know what to say about this chapter. It made me really sad at some parts typing it (the angst, ohhh the angst!), and nervous in others just thinking 'what am I writing? Who the hell's going to enjoy this shit??'

I hope you enjoy it, and tell me why? And if you don't also tell me why?

Oh, by the way I have got most of my skating knowledge from my cousin (who considers himself to be a skateboarging god), so feel free to correct me if you noticed anything wrong.

Just out of interest, has anyone else read The Breaker?