Connecticut
Chapter Thirteen
By Jamaica
Author's Note: Sorry for not updating in a while. I had four AP tests to take care of plus a pretty big writer’s block. So I’m surprised to even come up with something today. Squaresoft still owns all these pretty people and I sadly only have my imagination. No money. And again, thank you thank you thank you thank you for all my faithful reviewers and readers. I really really appreciate this.
Connecticut
Chapter Thirteen
By Jamaica
Squall truly learned how hard the dorm floors could be.
He tossed and turned incessantly, dreaming of nothing and everything. He didn’t understand; usually he couldn’t care less where he crashed. Now he couldn’t sleep because of one small notch digging in his back. Or was that a bruise?
Squall sighed. Wide-awake around 3:30 am, he stood up from the floor position quietly. He could hear Rinoa and Fujin’s breathing on the bunk bed next to him. Squall crawled around in the unfamiliar room, feeling to the bathroom they shared with the suite next door.
He splashed water on his face and contemplated his current situation. What am I doing? He cursed. I can’t stay here! All my stuff that matters is in that house! He took a few basic articles of clothing with him that afternoon; everyone else was out when he went back, luckily. But that’s it. All of his art supplies, his canvas, his half-finished works, were sitting quietly abandoned in the attic. He knew he couldn’t move all of them to Fujin’s room. And his professor just told them what was required for the semester exam portfolio. He needed to be in that house for the next few weeks to work.
Maybe I could just lock myself up in the attic and not see them again until I’m done. Squall thought amusedly. Right, that’ll work. He snickered and wiped his face again. It’s smart to be away from them for tonight, but for the next week is simply ridiculous. He lived there.
Hiding is no solution. Squall sighed when he realized that. He reemerged from the bathroom. I had to go back tomorrow. He sighed again and crept back on to his temporary rest on the floor. Might as well catch 2 more hours of sleep.
He settled himself back under the covers. Closing his eyes, Squall drifted off to another round of fitful dreams.
“Going back *today?*” Fujin stared at him. “It’s not a problem, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. And thanks for that. It’s just . . .” Squall fidgeted a little. “My studio’s there. And the assignment that Seagill assigned us . . .”
Fujin nodded in understanding. “Oh right, I forgot. Well, what do you plan to do?”
“Do?”
“You gonna report it?”
“ . . . No.”
She nodded again. “Right. Nothing happened.”
“Yeah.”
Uncomfortable silence.
“Well, I’m going.” Squall shouldered his bag back on. “I’ll see you in class.”
“Uh-huh.”
He gave her one last look before turning to get to the campus’ parking lot. His motorcycle glistened under the bright sun. The day was, ironically, beautiful as always.
“Why’re you here?”
The accusation from Irvine’s lips was ignored as the recipient sulked his way away from the living room. The only thing Squall threw over his shoulder was “I live here.”
“Don’t go that way!” Irvine yelled.
Squall narrowed his eyes. Without turning around, he replied, “And just exactly why not?”
Before he even saw it, Seifer’s looming figure materialized in front of him from the kitchen. His obvious lecherous grin when he laid his eyes on the brunet indicated that he knew *precisely* what happened the previous night. And as predicted, Seifer knocked into Squall lightly and attempted to rub his ass.
Squall immediately took a step back and untangled himself from the invading arms. His eyes narrowed even further. Fuck this, he thought. He reached inside his coat pocket and retrieved his gun. Might as well as scare the guy a little so he would back off.
Seifer’s expression was no short than amusement when Squall aimed Lionheart to his head. “Whoa, what’s this?” He raised his hands in a demonstration of surrender.
“Don’t screw with me, Almasy,” Squall replied in an even tone. “You touch me again I will make *sure* a metal ball goes through your forehead.”
Seifer laughed. He started to walk but Squall put both of his hands on the revolver. Seifer stopped moving, although the grin didn’t fade.
“Drop the gun, Squall.” Another voice echoed in the room. Squall turned his gaze rightward, and saw the auburn-haired boy leaning on an arm of the sofa, looking bored.
“Whose side are you on?” Squall scoffed.
“Mine. Whatcha you gonna do anyway? Shoot him? With an illegally obtained weapon since you’re undoubtedly underage? Please.”
“He’s right, you know.” Seifer smirked.
“Shut the fuck up.” Squall frowned. He scoffed again in annoyance, then lowered the gun and put it back in the coat. “Just . . . don’t -”
“Uh-huh.” Seifer strolled toward him again. “Hey, Ice Prince, let me give you a little advice.”
Squall was about to tell Seifer off, but in a flurry of movements a .38 caliber with ‘Hyperion’ engraved on the side appeared in Seifer’s right hand. A slight click and the cold round rod next to the skin of Squall’s temple froze him into place, eyes fixed
ahead.“Life isn’t a movie, beautiful,” Seifer’s voice vibrated next to his ear. “Next time you point a gun at someone, make sure your safety’s off. Oh, and don’t try to shoot when you’re scared. You’ll miss.” With that, he leaned over and kissed Squall on the cheekbone, right in front of his ear. The gun’s pressure vanished, as did the blond a moment later.
Squall waited until his heart rate slowed down before glaring at Irvine, who hadn’t moved from his spot. His expression unreadable. “You knew he had that, didn’t you?” Squall asked.
“Yeah,” Irvine shrugged. “Next time, follow his advice. He had that thing since he was in grade school. And for your info, he used it too.”