Author's Note: Okay, so I'm really, actually kind of nervous about this one. Probably because I'm bearing a lot of my soul with it too, since I used my feelings about my sexuality in order to be able to write Squall's. For those of you who aren't familiar with the terms, aromantic and asexual are two seperate orientations by which people identify themselves. Those who identify as aromantic either feel very little romantic attraction, or none at all. Conversely, those who are asexual feel very little or no sexual attraction. It is possible to be both, and Squall is, in this fic. I thought it might be interesting to portray him as such, after playing the game again. Merely a head-cannon, if you will. If it offends you, that's perfectly fine. There's the back button. Feel free to hit it, you're entitled to your opinion.

Furthermore, this is not a representation of how all people in those spectrums feel by any means, so please don't take it as such. This is merely how I imagined Squall's would be, and though I used some of my own feelings and experiences, his feelings are not exactly the same as mine either. He's a completely seperate character, regardless of what I used for inspiration. If I'm making any sense.

Anyway, I'm going to stop with the nervous babbling now. Thanks for reading!

Squall was eighteen when he realized it felt wrong to kiss her.

It wasn't that he was afraid to love Rinoa. He wanted to love her, cared very much about her well-being, and his friends all thought they made a good couple, so who was he to complain? A natural process of life was pairing off and mating, even though he couldn't say he'd ever held people in that regard.

Nevertheless, Squall had always gotten the impression attraction was something that just...happened, regardless of effort. Which raised the question:

Why not me?

Maybe it was odd, but he honestly couldn't remember ever having a serious crush on anyone, nor could he imagine dating, and the few trashy porn flicks Seifer had conned him into watching as a cadet did less than nothing for his nonexistent libido. On top of that, the few kisses he'd been roped into before left him feeling indifferent at best, and the awkward sex he'd witnessed in dark corners of Garden just made him wonder why anyone could ever want such a thing.

In fact, the thought of being that intimate with someone was vaguely horrifying.

Romance didn't seem like something he needed or wanted in his life, but everyone else seemed to think he was just being stubborn, and maybe they were right. Perhaps if he went on a few dates. Tried kissing someone again.

That could work. Maybe.

If not with Rinoa, then who? This was something he 'should' want, after all. Besides, he had problems opening up to his friends even now, and he supposed that same sense of mistrust could translate into a lack of romantic or sexual attraction.

Maybe he just wasn't trying hard enough.

So he swallowed his discomfort and dived into a relationship with Rinoa. He held her hand, kissed her on the balcony, tried his damnedest to feel even an ounce of whatever it was couples claimed to have for each other. He looked at her and saw a friend, but there was no imaginary butterfly flitting around in his stomach. No coiling heat in his loins, no spontaneous "Hey, I really want to fuck you!" Was that even a thing?

All the same, he was determined to find out if actually being in a relationship could change that.

After months of cajoling, Squall caved, and they went into Balamb town one night to see a movie. Nothing big, just some nameless action flick he'd never remember the name of. They went to dinner first, talking with each other long through the meal, and while he knew he enjoyed her company, it certainly wasn't in the same way she did. At some point, she reached across the table to take his hand, and for some reason the stars in her eyes did nothing but make his stomach twist with dread.

He ignored that feeling. Swallowed it down and smiled back, if the slight twitch of his lips could even be called smiling.

He had to wonder if it looked as forced as it felt, or if Rinoa noticed either way.

If she did she made no comment. Even worse, she seemed almost giddy as she looked into his eyes and said: "I'm so glad I met you."

Oh. Oh no.

His heart stuttered, and not in a good way, anxiety rising up to choke him. She hadn't said anything particularly telling, but for some reason it still made his stomach clench with dread.

That was...confusing. Surely he was being ridiculous.

And yet, when she leaned in for a kiss, he couldn't stop himself from turning his head at the last second. This horrible sense of trepidation wouldn't leave him alone. He felt sick, , as if he were repeatedly missing the last step on a flight of stairs.

Later, he tried asking Irvine about it, fumbling to explain feelings he barely understood, but the sniper hardly let Squall finish his sentence before he was eyeing him with amusement, laughing indulgently.

"You're way over-thinking this, man. Relax, let it happen. Try again."

So he did try. He tried so hard, he lost sleep thinking of her, or rather, the fact that he'd rather do anything but cuddle on the couch, or go to another movie where she gazed at him with those damnable stars in her eyes, stars he didn't understand. It got so bad, the mere thought of her sent his mind into a tail spin. 'Rinoa' just became another reminder of the many ways he'd failed.

Rinoa was a great girl. Sure she was stubborn and more than a little headstrong, but she had a passion for life and a big heart. Squall honestly didn't know why the attraction wasn't there, but somehow he didn't think she was the problem. The thought of going on dates with anyone sent that same cold pit of dread sinking into his stomach.

Not to mention, the lingering gazes she threw him just made him feel...tight. Uncomfortable, as if he were struggling to stuff himself into a uniform two sizes two small. At first glance it looked like it might fit, but actually attempting to wear the dreadful thing made chafing a common occurrence, and breathing a fond memory.

Like all of his clothes that didn't fit, he wanted nothing more than to rip the damn thing off, dump his entire stock of Flares into it, then bathe in the ashes.

Bathe in them.

So why don't I?

Why do I care so much?

He didn't know, and Squall was sure to lock his office door before collapsing into his desk chair, head in his hands as he murmured, "What's wrong with me?"

His friends thought he was falling back into his 'old' ways when in the next few days, he began shutting himself in his room more and more, and perhaps they had a point, but he was scared. He wished there was someone he could turn to, but the last time he tried asking for help, Irvine laughed at him, so what was the point in bothering?

Instead, Squall ignored their pleading messages, told Rinoa he needed time to think. Not the best way to deal with anything. Or not deal with them, in this case. Eventually however, after a week of being put off, his erst-while 'girlfriend' got frustrated, pounding on his door for a solid half hour before he said 'to hell with it' and let her in.

Squall couldn't blame her for being upset.

She didn't know any better. She didn't know their relationship was all a sham.

"What's wrong?" she pleaded, touching his hand. "Let me help you."

Squall opened his mouth and for one horrifying moment, considered telling her the truth. That he was broken and no amount of trying really hard would ever change that. For whatever reason, he was just...defective. Incapable of lust or love. He didn't want her. For anything beyond friendship, and it wasn't enough. He couldn't give her what she wanted.

He just couldn't.

In the end, his lips moved, but the words that came out were robotic, lifeless.

"I can't."

It wasn't enough. Shamefully inadequate and he knew that, but they were all he could force out. She waited a minute or two, as if expecting more, but in the end her face crumpled and she threw his Griever ring back at him, storming out in tears.

A note he found on his desk the next day explained she had departed for Timber. He only skimmed the rest, but he remembered seeing, 'I should never have trusted you.' That hurt, but he couldn't blame her.

It wasn't her fault.

I should have tried harder.

That had been days ago, and Squall expected at least one of his friends to ambush him outside his office eventually. As such, he was completely unsurprised to see a figure two days later, leaning against the archway opposite his door in front of the elevators.

What he didn't expect was for that person to be Seifer Almasy.

While no longer directly affiliated with Garden, Seifer had chosen to occupy his time after the war by attempting to become a self-made business man. He currently serviced weapons, both for civilians licensed to carry, and occasionally for wayward Garden Cadets and SeeDs. Based close-by in Balamb, Squall hadn't seen much of him in the past couple of months.

He knew that the other gunblade specialist must still be coming to terms with his actions as Ultimecia's Knight, despite proof that he'd been possessed the whole time. Miraculously, he'd been given a full pardon by both Esthar and Galbadia's governments, with the sole condition that he report his actions to SeeD and Balamb Garden, who would then keep both governments informed of his whereabouts.

He'd considered offering himself up as Seifer's 'probation' officer, but thought that might just be cruel under the circumstances. Not to mention, he wasn't entirely sure his staff wouldn't have objected. In light of their history together, Squall might simply be too biased to do him any good in that respect.

Nevertheless, he couldn't help but wonder how Seifer was coping. They'd always been more rivals than anything else, but he'd also been the closest thing Squall ever had to a friend.

He was fairly certain he remembered seeing a few reports on his desk claiming the other man had been granted passage several times to Edea's orphanage, though how he'd gotten rides all the way out to Centra was beyond him. Perhaps Matron took it upon herself to have him brought there. She was the closest thing Seifer had to a mother. It made sense he'd want her support.

Not to mention, Edea was probably the only other person who might understand exactly what Seifer went through. She'd been manipulated too. Maybe they needed each other.

Good. Despite everything that happened between them, Squall still cared about Seifer. Nobody else needed to know that, but it was true anyway.

"How did you get up here?" The SeeD Commander asked, rubbing his temple with his free hand, the one not currently clutching his laptop case. He wasn't getting out of this conversation without a headache, he just knew it.

Seifer, still leaning on the archway, turned slightly to face him, tilting his head even as his lips formed a smirk. "Good to see you too, Princess. Come on, you could at least pretend you're happy to see me."

The words were just flippant and sarcastic enough to pass as Seifer's normal manner of speech, but years of observing the man meant Squall could look deep enough to know better. Underneath that thin veneer of confidence was an unmistakable sense of hurt. Easy to miss, but there all the same.

Suddenly it occurred to Squall that he hadn't so much as bothered to call him since the trial, and he winced inwardly.

"I've been busy. Did you need something?"

Now Seifer did push off the wall, striding closer and stopping a foot away, looking into Squall's face, as if scrutinizing what he found there. He wasn't sure exactly what it was the other man was looking for, but he must not have liked what he saw, because he frowned deeply.

His green eyes drilled into him, making Squall's blood run cold, and he shivered uneasily. Seifer had somehow always been able to tell if something was off with his fellow gunblade specialist, and he liked that even less now than he had as a cadet. The thought of anyone reading him that easily was highly unsettling.

As suddenly as his scrutiny began, it was over and Seifer was rubbing his chin, nodding decisively to himself.

Oh no. That was never a good sign.

Then his green eyes lit up and Squall knew he was in trouble.

"Yup, thought so. Come, Squally-boy. We're going on an adventure," Seifer proclaimed loudly, eyes dancing with mischief. Squall was so startled, he simply let the other man grab his sleeve and half-drag him to the elevators, like a reluctant five-year-old. Before he could utter a single protest, the metal doors slammed shut behind them.

Well, shit.

What Seifer's brand of fun would be this evening, Squall could only guess, but last time he'd checked, his rival's idea of a good time had been high school pranks and internet porn.

Great.

Nothing says 'my life is surreal' like starting my day staring down the barrel of a gun, and ending it spray painting billboards with Seifer.

Squall sighed. "You haven't changed since we were fifteen," he muttered, resigned to whatever debauchery Seifer had in mind for the night.

"I can't. You'd get bored," his companion quipped, slinging an arm around Squall's shoulders, who rolled his eyes, glowering at the floor numbers as they blinked by, mocking him.

"I don't suppose I get to know where we're going?"

"Nope."

"Ugh. Whatever."

Seifer just laughed in answer.

There was no point in arguing now. Besides, it wasn't as if Squall had anywhere else to be. He just hoped they didn't run into his friends. He was in no mood for another "You should open up to us," speech. Particularly when they were only ever interested in exactly what they wanted to hear.

To his relief and dismay, their destination wasn't in Garden at all. Seifer led him straight out of the building and to a waiting vehicle. Apparently he'd been given a parking pass to use on the days he reported in.

The drive mostly went by without incident, Seifer occasionally making a comment about the song that was on, or singing along to the lyrics, but for the most part he seemed content to let Squall brood in silence, for the moment anyway. One good thing about his rival was that he never felt the need to fill every silence with mindless chatter - beyond deliberate attempts to annoy him, anyway - and Squall appreciated that. In many ways they were as different as night and day, but at least he could count on Seifer to shut the hell up for two seconds when he needed him to.

Their destination ended up being a small building in Balamb town, much to Squall's surprise. Seifer parked the car on the street and led the way up a set of stairs, unlocking the door and motioning him inside with enthusiasm and a fair bit of pride.

Instantly, the smell of gun powder and weapon oil swamped his nostrils, and as Seifer flicked a light-switch on the wall behind them, Squall realized this must be where he'd set up shop. There were boxes of parts lying about, sharpening flints scattered haphazardly all over the floor, and various different types of assault rifle, sword, and even a gunblade or two leaning against walls, or encased in metal racks.

Seifer probably hadn't been here long, if the lack of furniture and flaking paint was any indication, but Squall felt his own spirits lifting just at the sight of his long time rival, grinning as he ran a hand along the surface of the shop's front-counter. Made of old oak, it extended from one wall to the other, the only other thing besides random spare parts he could see along the surface being a cash register, newer and recently purchased.

"Right now I just do my work here, and potential customers come to my apartment for their shit, but I should have the shop up and running soon. It ain't much, but it's mine, so don't knock it, okay?" he quipped, pulling a couple of folding chairs from a closet as he spoke.

Seifer just seemed to...glow in this place, and his excitement was so contagious, Squall almost found himself smiling back. He sat down in one of the chairs as his rival made his way over to the fridge in the corner, pulling out a couple of beers and tossing one to Squall, who caught it without comment. He wasn't much of a drinker, but with the way things had been going lately...

Well. Just one wouldn't hurt. Or two.

Or ten.

"You're doing well for yourself, Seifer. I'm...glad."

The other man sat across from him, twisting the top of his drink off and taking a swig before gasping theatrically with shock.

"It speaks! And with such sentiment, too. Be still, my heart," Seifer replied, bringing his hand up to his chest with a sob that could only be called mocking.

"Shut up." Suppressing laughter, Squall twisted the cap off his own beer and threw it at Seifer, who shot him a glance that was both amused and suitably wounded.

"And here I thought what we had was special."

The SeeD Commander's lip quirked up into a smile. Then he shook his head, disappointed with himself for letting go. For forgetting he was supposed to be unhappy.

It woke Squall up a bit. Sitting around drinking beers with his old rival was all well and good, but why? What prompted this little outing in the first place?

"Seifer, why are we here?"

The blond's face sobered, as if he'd been expecting the topic change, and he leveled his gaze at Squall, pushing off the floor with one of his legs and leaning his chair up against the wall. He steepled his hands and rested his chin on them, cocking an eyebrow. "As soon as you tell me what the hell your problem is, we can answer that question. That, and maybe why you're trying so hard to be something you're not." The way Seifer said it was so nonchalant, he could have been commenting on the weather, but inside, Squall's stomach dropped, and the clump of ice he'd almost been able to forget about made itself painfully known.

There it was. The elephant in the room. The one Seifer had been staring at since they'd met outside his office.

Squall wondered if he'd been fooled for a second.

"How would you know who I'm 'trying to be?' We don't even talk anymore."

"No, you don't talk to me, Squall. That doesn't mean I don't pay any attention to you. Besides, Hyne only knows none of your little friends would shut the fuck up about Rinoa when I ran into them after reporting yesterday."

Squall pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging gently. Yup. Headache time. "I've had enough lectures from Quistis and Selphie, I don't need them from you too."

"The only lecture you're getting from me is to stop being an idiot. I'm guessing your 'friends' are the ones you listened to when you decided it was a good idea to fake it with Rinoa? I don't know what the hell you were trying to do, but it's obvious you have more interest in wet cardboard than dating or sex."

His whole world stopped in an instant, and he knew the panic exploded on his face for a split second before he was able to push it back down.

Here we go again.

Great.

This was the part where Seifer laughed, judged him, called him 'Puberty-boy' or whatever the fuck name seemed most degrading. Squall's stomach tightened with dread, but there was no way the other man hadn't seen his expression close down a moment ago, so he saw little point in denying it now.

"How do you know that?"

"It's not exactly a secret, Squall. Half the school has come on to you at some point, and they've gotten nowhere. I'm also noticing you're not denying it, and you know what? There's nothing wrong with that. So you don't want to do the deed, who gives a shit?"

"You don't think that's...weird?"

Seifer shrugged, as if it honestly didn't matter to him. And that, more than anything else, shook Squall to the core. "Not really. I mean, sure, I don't see it often, but who cares? It's just who you are, Squally-boy. Own it, or it'll own you."

Squall lowered his eyes, feeling achingly vulnerable. He was revealing far too much of himself, and he knew it. He wanted to run, hide, but maybe...

When next he spoke, the words were murmured so quietly, Seifer probably had to strain to hear them.

"I always thought I had to. Fall in love, have sex, get married, but I've never wanted that. Not once."

The Commander met Seifer's gaze head-on, bracing himself for impact. For the horrible humiliation his laughter would be.

It never came.

"You're different, Squall, so what? I'm bi-sexual. Do you think I give a fuck what people say when they see me making out with another dude, or when they tell me I should just pick a gender and stick with it? Nobody else gets to decide what should be 'normal', or what makes your life worthwhile. It's gotta be about your happiness. Your dream."

So Seifer was different too. That...actually sort of helped. Squall had never stood by labels much, but it occurred to him that it might be nice to have a definition like Seifer did. Some way to identify himself to himself, if nothing else.

Was there one, and if there was, did it matter? A definition wouldn't change what he was, but...maybe then he could accept it.

"Do you think...there's a word for it? The way I am?"

Seifer cocked his head, pursing his lips, as if deep in thought. "There are people who fall in love with inanimate objects. Why not people who don't fall in love at all? I mean, I can't tell you how to define yourself, but I bet if you look, it's out there. Don't chalk yourself up as a weirdo just yet. There are probably plenty of people who feel the same way you do, and you know what, man? That fucking counts for something. Don't let anybody make you believe something that ain't true. I knew something about that even before Sorceress Uber-Bitch dug her claws into my brain."

Astonishment struck him so fast his guard dropped further, mouth moving of its own accord. Horrified as Squall was, the words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"How can you be so flippant about this? I am a freak of nature. A defect. People just...it's not natural, okay? It can't be." Squall was a little afraid of how fast his barriers were breaking down, and just how much he was sharing with someone else; never-mind the fact that this someone else was Seifer, of all people.

Nevertheless, he found himself hanging on his words.

"Okay, first of all, you're not a freak. You're you, and I actually happen to like you sometimes." Seifer's face softened and he smiled at Squall then, as if to assure him he was kidding about the 'sometimes', and it was so pathetic, but something in his chest loosened a bit.

"That said, you're so focused on what you think others expect of you, you've lost touch with what they actually think. Try talking to your merry band of time-saving wonder kids if you care so much. If they give an ounce of a shit about you they'll accept it, and if they can't they're not your friends. I don't give a fuck who you killed together."

It shamed Squall to realize just how much those words actually mattered to him. How much it might crush him if Seifer did call him a freak. Instead the blond sat quietly drinking a beer with him, trying to draw him out of his shell, and for what? Because he noticed Squall looked...depressed?

Hyne, he could feel himself sagging with relief that someone, somewhere really did care how he was feeling, and more than a little self-deprecation accompanied the thought. Here Seifer was, caring about someone he had every reason to hate. Someone who'd watched Ultimecia poison his mind, and done nothing to try and help him. Six months ago, Squall would have stricken Seifer down without ever bothering to ask if he could prevent it, and he could tell himself that was war, but it didn't change the truth.

They'd been rivals, sure, but they'd known each other intimately, and deep inside Squall knew the moment he saw Seifer's face on that float during the Sorceress' parade that something was wrong, very wrong. He'd merely chosen to ignore it, because things were easier that way and he wanted to sleep at night.

As he looked up into Seifer's green eyes, so open and sincere, the guilt threatened to choke him all over again.

I don't deserve your kindness.

Seifer...

"Hey. What we did to you back then...I'm sorry. I knew something was wrong, and yet I...I didn't..." Squall tried desperately to choke the words out, cursing his inability to articulate feeling. All the same, the other man seemed to understand exactly what prompted the rapid change in topic, and though Seifer's face darkened, Squall was astonished to find nothing accusing in his expression as he dropped his eyes to the floor, picking at the arm of his chair.

For the first time that night, Seifer avoided his gaze. There was something deeply haunted in his stare, as if he were struggling to push back memories he'd rather banish. "Her magic was too strong. You couldn't have done anything. Hyne knows I tried."

"Doesn't mean I shouldn't have."

For a few moments both men were silent. Then Seifer lifted his gaze again and did something that knocked the breath from Squall's lungs.

He smiled. So sincerely, it made his eyes sparkle with warmth.

"You know, I'm doing this new thing where I don't let my past control me. Try it sometime." He finished his beer and jumped from his chair, running to the fridge for another with a spring in his step. Silently, he grabbed Squall another one too, which he accepted without protest.

For all that Seifer claimed there was nothing anyone could have done, he now knew Squall understood he could have handled the situation differently. Astonishingly, that seemed to be enough for him. He could tell by the way his former rival met his eyes that he appreciated the apology.

Wait. 'Former' rival?

Former. Surely this didn't mean...

Holy shit.

No way. Too dangerous.

Squall bit his lip, unsure. Dangerous, certainly, but so was taking on a power hungry sorceress, and he'd managed to survive being ripped through time and space relatively intact. Surely he could manage...well. Maybe.

Probably.

"Seifer?"

"Hm?"

Suddenly, Squall understood why awkwardness made people seem uncommonly interested in their fingernails, because his looked rather appealing right now. He couldn't even bring himself to glance up as he choked out the question.

"Does this mean we're friends?"

A long pause followed, and it was all he could do to drag his eyes up to meet Seifer's, as if facing his executioner rather than a man he'd known for practically his entire life.

If it weren't for the sheer earnestness in Seifer's face, Squall probably would have felt ten times more awkward about being so open, but as it stood, he thought the gentle acceptance he found in the other man's smile was answer enough.

"I don't know, Squally, you tell me."

Tentatively, he smiled back.

"Yeah. I'd like that."