Spoilers: none, set in post-game world where Rinoa never existed(thus there was much rejoicing!).

Disclaimer: Don't own them, don't sue.

Feedback: ...Whatever.

NOTES: ANGST!!! If you couldn't already tell. This was actually just something I started so I could list all my problems and just angst myself out until I didn't want to be sad anymore. When I was actually sitting in the shower(see end of fic) holding my razor, I was like, "Fuck, if I just changed some names and things around that would make a decent fic!" Squall POV. so, without further procrastination...


By The March Hare

IÖ I feel so small again. Just like I did when ďSisĒ left.

El Carnecita. That was Seiferís new pet name for me. It means ďcute little steakĒ, or something to that extent. It was the only word he knew in Spanish when he started taking the coarse at Garden. I think, but I donít remember quite how it went since I was laughing too hard at the time. Now he knows all sorts of other nasty things to call me in different languages, but still stays with that one.

He calls me his ďchew toyĒ, and bites roughly anywhere he can reach easily, but wonít show. Sometimes itís because of his frustrations, and sometimes itís because of something I do. I donít really fight back anymore, there would be no point, and heís a very persistent and dominating person. It doesnít always bleed, but I try to cringe away every time Seifer leaps at me like that, just in case. Perhaps itís merely a possessive gesture to mark his territory.

Iím not as flattered as I would have been had you described the situation to me before out relationship. It still makes me feel so small and helpless. Part of me doesnít want to defend myself, so itís just like when I couldnít. Itís a bad pattern, but also very demeaning. Once I saw a family of dogs do the same thing to their pups.

Seifer walked into the room and raised a critical eyebrow at Squall when he slammed the book he was writing in shut. ďWhat are you doing, Carnecita?Ē

Looking as guilty as if heíd been caught with his hand down his pants, Squall stuffed his journal quickly into his bag. ďStudying for the SeeD rank tests. Iím not making enough Gil for both of us to live on if weíre not staying at Garden anymore.Ē

The blonde shrugged, dropping his things and heading towards the shower.

As soon as he heard the water running, Squall pulled the book back out and continued writing.

My father is getting pretty old now. I have him to blame for my abandonment complex. I felt so sad the other night when I looked at Griever. Itís going to break someday and Iíll probably lose the pieces. I wouldnít be surprised if it happened while Seifer was fucking me. Heís so cruel sometimes.

My dad is going to die in a few years. Heís going to leave me and Iíll have nothing that can take his place fully. Heís an attachment to my mother, whom Iíve only known through the experiences Ellone takes me to.

I was so small when I went to the orphanage, but I can remember the moment. Cold, and raining, and miserable the unknown men dragged me to the door of the stone cottage, knocked, and left. No one answered until dawn.

Which brings me to my abandonment complex. I look at everyone now and get even deeper into depression than I was before. Iím going to have to see them all DIE.

Iíll be left here, probably all alone. As I sat in my depressive state nights ago, I realized that the urge Iíd always had to be a father came from this complex.

It doesnít matter that Iím gay, they have genetic engineering to fix that. I donít know how long Iíll be with Seifer. I hope forever. But Iím a realist, and I know that NOTHING lasts forever, still, I have a tiny piece of hope buried somewhere that Iím not going to show anyone. Some stupid part of me looks at my father and thinks, ďIf I have a child, Iíll never be alone.Ē

I probably heard that from Edea sometime when I was little. Garden is all she has left. What will happen to her when it falls? Itís going to, itís just natural, but Iíll never stop worrying about her.

Thatís going to be a crutch in my future Iím not too sad to carry.

I look at my relationship with my father and doubt my own future parenting abilities. What if I fuck up? What if make some huge mistakes like he did? I donít want to ruin anyone elseís life!!!!!!!! I HATE BEING A BURDEN TO ANYONE, EVER!!!!!!!

Squall stopped, a drop of something wet hitting the paper as it tore under his pen. He looked up into curious and malicious blue eyes. ďSeifer.Ē

ďCarnecita.Ē He countered, smiling as he grabbed Squall by his jacket collar and pressed him against the wall, several feet from where his feet could have supported him. Flinging his towel carelessly behind him, Seifer lifted his thigh to support Squall on as he divested him of all unnatural coverings, save Griever. It gave him some sick pleasure to use it as a choke collar as he slammed into Squall hard and fast against the smooth white surface above their bed. Seifer had his idiosyncrasies, and auto-erotic asphyxiation was one of them.

Squall gulped sharply for air and waited for the wave of pain to pass as his limp body was impaled again. Truly Seifer was a romantic at heart though, leaning in to softly lick his loverís lips and breathe for him, when oxygen threatened to abandon his straining lungs.

Seiferís hands found Squallís cock and slowly stroked him with gentleness only shown to a child. Seifer bit harshly into his shoulder, drawing blood and drinking it as it flowed freely down the both their chests. They came together, arching inward and glaring at the otherís eyes as if it were their fault.

Squall was gently lowered to the bed and kissed on the forehead. He sat there looking dazed while Seifer left the room and came back with a sterile pad, placing it over the wound and pulling his gray trench coat around Squallís shaking body. He left again and returned dressed, snatching his keys from beside the bed and heading out the door. Squall sat up and opened the book again.

New complex: Self-loathing. I never feel like I help anyone. I only make things worse for everyone. I donít deserve anything from anyone else. I feel so guilty that Iím so USELESS!!!! I just take, and take, and take, and can never repay anyone. If I tried, it would only make things worse. Thatís a lesson Iíve learned in the past millions of times, but itís never really stuck. Even though, Iím always going to keep trying, and Iím only ever going to make things worse. In a way, I suppose, I deserve to be alone for my uselessness.

If there were a desert island I could go and live on, I would still feel guilty for taking up space that someone else could be filling. Air, which is so precious, which, is being destroyed so quickly and with such carelessness, I feel guilty for breathing. Iím so spoiled I hate myself. I DESERVE NOTHING AND TO BE ALONE FOREVER. I SHOULD NEVER BE ALLOWED THE PRIVILEGE OF SEEING MY CHILDíS FACE SMILING UP AT ME WITH INNOCENCE AND LOVE.

Damn it, Iím crying now. Not sobbing, just getting fuzzy at the paperís edge. I hate it when people know Iíve been crying. Itís humiliating to the small amount of pride I let myself have. Iím weak, and that just confirms it. I try to look strong, stable even. Maybe to show Iím not so useless after all? Itís only a small thing to make me feel better though I suppose. I worry for Irvine. My heart reaches out to him like it does to very few other people. He asked me for advice the other day and IÖ I couldnít give him any. I never had a good coping method, and never will. His stepmother was cruel and abusive to him when he left the orphanage. Heís tried his hardest to just forget her, since heís an adult now and can defend himself.

ÖAnd sheís coming to town for the holidays this year and wants to see him. I donít know what to tell him. I wish she wouldnít do things like that, to make him hurt in any way. I wish I could just wrap him up in blanket like a child and hold him safely from the rest of the world. When I have a child, I hope theyíre just like Irvine is inside.

It hurts me so much when he doubts himself. Or when he withdraws from the world and wonít even speak to me. Iíll never give up on helping Irvine. If there were another planet I could send him away to, convinced heíd be safe from this hell, I would do everything in my power to get him there. Weíre so alike in ways that no one will ever know. When I help Irvine, I help myself. I feel so privileged when I see his real side, I want to scoop him up and spin him around by the arms. Iím not strong enough, though, so I push it away. I canít help it, either. I love Irvine, because heís my brother in spirit. I wish I could help him.

Itís getting late now, and I should try to sleep, but with so many things hanging over my head, I wish I could just fuck them all away. Oh wait, I just did, and it didnít help. Iím going to have insomnia again for awhile, I can tell. Iím also going to lose my appetite because I donít feel that I deserve to consume any resources that could go to the people I care about. Iím going to try to forget all of this and just attempt to sleep, first. I know itís not possible, but itís worth trying. There I go with that trying thing again, Iíll never learn.

Actually, I think Iíll take a shower and just sit at the bottom of it until the hot water runs out. If only it would wash everything else away, too. If only it were all just sweat on my skin that would glide off like blood, so that I could watch it swirl down the drain, wishing I could follow and never be found. That makes me wish for a self-destructive streak. I burned the shit out of my arm the other night by accident but the pain felt so good. Maybe the razor will slip just a little and bring that glorious freshening sting. Maybe; but that would be bad. And Iím a sucker and an idiot for trying.

Squall closed the book and set it on the bed. Snuggling into Seiferís jacket, he walked to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind and smiling.



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