Counterclockwise

Chapter 08
Words: 14 105
Genre: Comedy/Romance (Fluff)
Pairing(s): Eventual Leon x Cloud
Notes: AU highschool!fic. Leon will hereon be referred to as Squall. :D
Disclaimer: Inspired by Gosho Aoyama's Conan, as well as Staryday's fic, Child Again.
Warnings: A little swearing, a whole lot of... cute:D;;
Rated: R

Summary: Leon and Cloud have never liked each other. They've been rivals ever since they first set eyes on each other. But when science experiments go out of hand, and one of them gets the worst imaginable effects change his physique, it's bound to be the most eventful summer for both of them yet.

---

Squall raised an eyebrow in amusement.

A faint smirk was pulling at the corner of his lips, but somewhat reluctantly, he decided to suppress it, trying his best instead to maintain a rather neutral façade. He looked on straight ahead, staring dully at the wall on the opposite side of room as he squirmed one of his arms free from the vice-grip embrace he was being subjected to, taking the opportunity to pat dear old flustered Cloud's back as consolingly as he could.

The teenager, on the other hand, held nothing of the cool countenance that Squall himself possessed. He was a little busy in his attempt to pry the boy's attention away from his computer monitor whilst single-handedly renaming and moving one of the folders on his computer to a more discreet location.

Squall was pretty sure that, regardless of if he bothered checking or not, Cloud had on a violent flush that, as far as he could see from the brief side-glance downwards to the back of the blond's head, extended to his very ears. Okay, he had to admit that, albeit with a copious amount of amusement, perhaps it was a bit too much for the teenager to stomach, mature as Squall may be.

But still. Very, very entertaining. He'd had a number of ideas of how Cloud would react in such a situation, but this was certainly much funnier than anything Squall himself could imagine.

In the corner of Cloud Strife's room was a worn black desk, housing odds and ends that had accumulated over the years. Cloud didn't like to throw anything away. Ever. He still had a paper ball that he made when he was still in kindergarten stowed away by the corner of a line of shabby books, even if it was crumpled and yellowed and barely held together under liberal amounts of scotch tape.

In any regards, there was a nice big space cleared out on the desk that was divided into two parts: one for things that needed flat surfaces, such as homework, paperwork and etcetera, and something bulky and permanent that needed a thick, flat surface, which was his computer.

As Squall had expected, the Strife family, being as thrifty as they were, did not have Internet. However, contrary to what he had initially imagined, it appeared that Cloud was stealing Internet from his neighbour's wireless network. Very sneaky, Cloud was.

Thus, as he had developed a slight head cold which thereby caused him to have a lot of free time on his hands, Squall had planted his round little bottom on the swiveling chair that had been tucked in neatly under the aforementioned desk and had taken the liberty to surf the Internet a little and clear up his e-mail inbox.

In his boredom also, he had taken to randomly clicking around (even if he knew that it was wrong to snoop around other people's personal files) and finally stumbled across something that he hadn't set his eyes on in a very, very long time.

And so, in an inconceivable state of wonder, he had double-clicked the folder and, at what he saw within, his eyes widened, and he was torn between grinning like an idiot and just. . . ahem.

But he wasn't surprised. Well, maybe a bit. But still, it was Cloud. And you know, he probably owned one too. You know.

A porn file.

Of course, at the most inopportune of moments, Cloud had chosen that specific minute to pop his head into his room to check up on the delightful little toddler. In the span of time that it takes for one to realize that it is raining after taking a step outside during a thunderstorm, the blond teenager's face had drained of blood and he had rushed forward, arms outstretched, a panicked sounding catching in his throat as Cloud somehow tripped over the mess that was his own feet and fell, his face smacking against the edge of the swivelling chair, causing it to spin around.

Ignoring the throbbing sensation in his nose and at the corner of his mouth, Cloud had launched his body upwards onto his knees and threw his arms around Squall, stopping the chair's motion, poking his head from the side of the boy's elbow and using one of his hands to exit the windows displaying the contents of the folder the poor boy had stumbled across, much to Cloud's own chagrin and embarrassment.

Vaguely, buried somewhere deep beneath the amusement and sympathy and exasperation, Squall could feel something nostalgic and familiar stir within him, gurgling gently somewhere inside, like a steady stream of ripples that grew larger and more forceful as a result of a powerful sensation from beneath the ground. He could barely grasp the sudden change he was experiencing, but words couldn't suffice as he felt something inside him snap into place.

At that exact moment, Squall was suddenly very aware of how close he and Cloud were. The blond's grip around him had slackened by a slight, but his head was leaning heavily against Squall's twiggy body. His spikes were tickling Squall a little, and Cloud was breathing through his mouth, smooth waves of his hot breath rolling out and caressing the stretch of exposed skin at the boy's waist. A sharp tingle ran up his spine and suddenly, Squall felt himself tremble a little.

He withdrew his now shaking hand from where it had been patting Cloud's back, pressing his lips together firmly and clenching his fists tightly, swallowing hard. The boy was starting to feel a touch light-headed and his mind was consumed in a dense thicket of fog as he urged himself to figure out what that lurch, what that sensation he had suddenly felt was. It was something he had experienced before, but it must have been a long time ago if he couldn't remember it.

He barely registered the nervous cough and the hesitant words that Cloud was struggling with as he slowly shifted his gaze from the yellowed poster across the room to blankly stare at the teenager's slightly red face, Cloud hesitantly resting both hands on the boy's shoulders. He couldn't hear anything else but a dull buzzing, ringing incessantly in his ears. Only somewhat aware of his surroundings, Squall remained still, ignoring whatever the blond had to say as he withdrew, wracking his brain for the origin of that. . . that feeling.

It was strange.

It was only when he felt someone gently shake him a few times did he eventually snap out of his reverie, whipping his head up to meet the concerned gaze of Cloud's mother. He blinked once, eyes coming into focus once again as he looked up earnestly at her and then averted his gaze to Cloud who had taken to standing behind her in the corner of the room, body facing away from the child, a hand covering his mouth as he slouched slightly, expression strained.

Squall sighed slightly, a smile ghosting across his lips at that. Was Cloud been that distressed that he had glimpsed some porn? He probably would have to cheer the blond up a little later or his conscience would never leave him in peace.

Glancing up as Cloud's mother tapped his nose twice and planted a peck on his forehead, his expression was that of slight surprise when she said, "So Demyx will baby-sit you since we won't be around. He's a good boy, so you behave for him, all right sweetie?"

What-the-what-the-what? Leave him alone with a baby-sitter?

"Where will Cloud be going?" Squall blurted out, eyes wide as he leaned forward and grasped the hem of her skirt loosely. She simpered softly, squatting down so that they were at eye level. One of her delicate hands was already gently patting his head.

"Well, Mr. Highwind asked him to make a delivery to Juno. It's very far, and there's a chance that Cloud may have to stay over at a motel or something for a night. Two, if the papers are processed late. I'll still be here, but I've got to go to my job, sweetheart, and the hospital is no place for a boy to stay day in and out," she explained patiently, her smile never once faltering. "Demyx will come along soon."

Demyx? Who the hell was Demyx?

"Why can't Yuffie baby-sit me?" Squall posed instead, still refusing to relinquish his grip on her skirt even if she had stood up and was making a move to leave the room. With a sigh, she shook her head a little, hands on her hips.

"I tried calling her, but I couldn't get her. She's been really busy lately. Don't worry, dear, Demyx is a nice boy and you'll like him. He's a bit like Yuffie, so you'll get along fine."

Then again, that actually didn't sound so appealing.

Cloud's mother had retreated to the kitchen to read the newspaper over a cup of tea. She had to wait until Demyx arrived to explain the ground rules, but if it meant Squall's safety and the house's security, she wouldn't mind arriving at the hospital a little later than usual. Her son, on the other hand, was supposed to leave for work immediately, but Squall noticed that he lingered around the house for just a little longer than necessary. Suddenly recalling the uneasy expression Cloud had been sporting earlier, Squall set out to corner the teenager before he left the house.

He was easy enough to find, musing quietly in the corner of the house. Cloud was facing the wall, his fine brows knitted together as a hand was covering his mouth, unsuccessfully concealing the flush that was spreading across his face.

Giving the blond a cursory glance, Squall approached him and tugged gently on his pant leg, eye immediately homing in on Cloud's as the teenager turned back slightly. He cocked his head to the side in question, patiently remaining where he was for a reaction or a few words or anything of the sort.

What he did notice was the twitch in one of Cloud's eyebrows and the deepened flush as the blond shrank slightly upon looking at the boy, Cloud clearing his throat a little awkwardly before averting his gaze and reluctantly squatting down to be at eye level with Squall.

Squall could practically see the cogs turning in Cloud's head in the struggle for explanations for the pornographic images stored away in his computer as dread and pure shame rolled off him in waves.

But Cloud didn't have anything to be ashamed about, right? He was still male, after all. What guy didn't have a porn file, or a stack of naughty magazines or. . . or. . .

And well, Squall didn't have any right looking through his desktop anyways! How did the kid even know how to use a computer? Wasn't he an urchin and. . . Why was he so calm?! Wouldn't a kid who had just seen a whole collection of porn be red-faced and. . . and somewhat turned on? Hang on, maybe Squall was so calm because he was used to porn. . .? If that were the case, and he was a street kid, then that must mean that. . . that. . .

The red drained from Cloud's face as he became as pale as a corpse.

Oh god.

Blinking, Squall cocked his head quizzically, unsure of what to make out of Cloud's blanch. He studied the blond for a silent moment, aware of the slight trace of fear in his eyes as he stared, perturbed, at the dark-haired boy. Suddenly worried that the little joke had gone a step too far, Squall immediately tried to decipher Cloud's train of thought.

Cloud pressed his lips into a firm line, eyebrows knitting together as his troubled gaze darted to the ground briefly. Clearing his throat, he raised his eyes to look once more at the boy, expression solemn as his jaw tightened slightly.

"Um, I think I should tell you about, ah, what you saw on my computer."

Squall stifled a snort, instead clearing his throat and looking at Cloud intently, trying to swallow back the rather smug smirk that was threatening to widen across his lips. The Talk. The Birds and The Bees. Where Babies Come From. How Babies Came About Therein. This promised to be interesting.

Meanwhile, Cloud was internally berating himself about not locking his computer with a password, and wondering how the fuck he was supposed to say something like 'Insert A Into B And Pull In And Out Really, Really Fast' to a 6-year-old out loud. Think, think, think. Should he use the stork theory? No, Squall had seen pictures of naked women with. . . in their. . . and. . .

Maybe diagrams would do the trick?

Cloud paused momentarily before realization dawned upon him. He restrained himself from banging his forehead repeatedly against the wall.

Diagrams. Porn. Photos. Porn pictures. Images. Videos. Diagrams.

Yes. Cloud Strife, you are indeed a genius. Go ahead and scar the kid further with more images depicting sexual acts.

"So, um," Cloud began, his voice just a notch higher than usual as he made an odd noise in the back of his throat. "Once you, ah, reach a certain age, you sort of, uh." Need to wank off. "You get. . . interested in girls."

Oh man, this was way too much. Squall was afraid that he would implode from holding all that laughter in. Trying his best to maintain his innocent façade, Squall bit down on his lower lip and inclined his head to the side questioningly at the utterly debased expression on Cloud's face.

"Go on."

Cloud cringed slightly.

Was his theory with the Squall and the- and the- oh god, please don't let him be right.

"Well. When you get interested in girls. . . you want to, uh, spend time with her. Get to know her. Have sex with her. Oh damn it."

"Cloud!" A pair of voices rang through the room, both incredulous and bowled over at his bluntness.

Squall turned to look at the two figures in the doorway. There was a tall, sturdily built teenager with dirt blond hair styled into something akin to a cross between the mullet and rattail haircuts. He had thrown on a loose cream coloured t-shirt over the faded blue sweater he was wearing – the shirt bearing a tribal-like design over the chest that was printed in a blue slightly darker than his sweater – and was sporting a pair of baggy blue jeans.

He looked absolutely scandalized, body curled backwards as though he were about sprint right out of there. His expression was that of pure horror, eyes wide open and mouth gaping as he furrowed a single eyebrow in astonishment.

"How the heck could you say something like that to a kid?!" he retorted, arms flapping slightly at his sides as his shorter companion squinted uncertainly at Squall, leaning forwards a little to study the boy's expression.

Well, Squall could easily guess that that high-strung one was probably Demyx.

Cloud sighed irritably, eyes fluttering shut almost immediately as his default scowl set in place. His left hand had already risen to his temple, massaging it with his thumb as he cocked his head downwards, trying to ward off the pounding headache that was already picking at his brain.

Squall kind of understood why.

"Kids pick up on bad language! What if he goes off repeating what you just said in public?! Everyone and their mothers will stare and gossip and you'll get the brunt of it! And the subject matter in question! Do you have any idea how he might misinterpret what you just said?! You have to handle that kind of thing delicately and the- the- you totally said the baddest of bad words!" Demyx ended fervidly, pointing an accusing finger at Cloud.

"Oh yeah?" The blond bit out with a slight growl. "Like 'sex' is any worse than 'fuc—"

"GAAAAAAH!" Demyx had leapt forward at that, diving face first into the ground as he slapped both hands on either side of Squall's head in order to protect his delicate ears from Cloud's potty language.

A smile flickered briefly on Squall's lips before his bit it down once again, eyes shining with amusement.

Demyx was jabbering rapidly now, and though he had his hands over Squall's ears, the boy could hear him even if the teenager was speaking at a rate too fast for Squall to bother paying his full attention. Cloud's scowl had grown even deeper as Demyx continued to tell him off for his indiscretion.

"Who gives a shit if I'm to the point?" Cloud interjected hotly, voice eerily soft and controlled. "Everyone is talking about sex. Sex, sex, sex, sex, se—"

"DON'T SAY THE WORD AROUND KIDS!"

"SEX."

"ARGGGGH! BAD WORD!"

"Look, it's not like it's any worse than f—"

"DON'T SAY IT!"

Cloud rolled his eyes and shot Demyx another glare as he pointedly gestured at Squall, who had a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as his eyes glanced from one to the other, evidently entertained by the exchange.

Suddenly aware that he was basically gripping the boy's head in his hands, Demyx immediately let go of Squall and, with the momentum from the force of the motion as well as losing his only form of support, waved his arms wildly as he toppled back and banged his head against the hard parquet floor unceremoniously, yelping in pain and surprise.

Squall could hear Cloud heaving a tired sigh and he looked on curiously as Demyx's companion approached them and squatted down. He had brilliantly blue eyes and a sandy kind of hair colour that had been side swept and then spiked. Looking no older than 14 or 15 at most, Squall couldn't help but feel that this guy was somehow related to that Sora kid he had seen hanging around, what with his eye colour and facial features.

His semi-worried gaze flickered from Demyx to the other two, and he gave them slight grin.

"Don't worry about Demyx. His head's made of enough hard things to have survived continual cranium trauma," he said easily, responded to with an indignant cry from the older teen.

"In any case, why were you guys talking about. . . procreation?" he asked Cloud with an inquisitive look on his face.

As Cloud opened his mouth to respond, Squall turned around and gave his own explanation expressly without the slightest hint of unease.

"I saw Cloud's pornography."

A stunned silence filled the living room for what seemed like hours as the three pairs of eyes that had homed in on the would-be sweet-and-untainted 6-year-old or so boy began to glaze over, minds reeling and jaws slackening as the older, 'maturer' male specimens froze at Squall's absolute nonchalance.

Cloud's face had drained itself of blood, the oldest teenager growing as white as a sheet as Roxas stared on at Squall with an expression that looked torn between breaking out in hysterical laughter and frowning disapprovingly. Demyx, on the other hand, being as blank as a piece of paper, merely blinked thrice before letting slip a sound that sounded very suspiciously like, ". . . ah?"

After another deafening moment of flabbergasted silence and a few light coughs from Squall himself, Roxas finally shook himself free of the spell and could only manage to say one thing, and even then it was with much difficulty as he had to form the suitable words on the tip of tongue before he could deliver his astonishment in a coherent sentence.

"You know what porn is?"

Squall raised a fine eyebrow and slowly nodded once.

Roxas' mouth fell open once again, opening and closing repeatedly so much so that, to Squall, it made him look like a goldfish.

There was that long, awkward silence again. It was definitely getting old. Squall frowned lightly, shifting his weight to his other foot as he began to fidget a little under all that scrutiny. After a while, he began scratching his arm, eyes darting to the clock face on the other wall as he mouthed the seconds that passed, waiting for someone to break the ice.

Eventually, someone did.

"So," Demyx attempted, voice an octave higher than normal. He glanced around nervously, a sheepish grin on his face.

"What's for lunch?"

xxx

"Right. So, no talking on the phone around the kid, no alcohol involving water near breakable things, and no dangerous stunts for hours. Something like that?"

"And refrain from eating anywhere but the kitchen and living room," Mrs. Strife responded serenely, raising a brow at the teenager. Demyx flashed her a mischievous grin.

"And no food except for in the kitchen and in front of the TV. Okay."

"Are you sure you can manage it?"

"Yep! Basically no whipping out!"

Cloud eyed Demyx wearily, wondering why the hell his mum had hired such an imbecile to take care of the house and baby-sit Squall. He crossed his arms, the scowl on his face deepening as he kept his icy gaze trained on Demyx who was now bending over and grinning widely at the only brunet in the room.

"'Sup, kiddo!" he said cheerily. "The name's Demyx. What's yours?"

"Squall," replied the boy uncertainly, looking up at the teenager. He had a hint of a dimple in his left cheek, and his sea green eyes were sparkling sincerely as they lit up with his smile. For some strange reason, Demyx's presence somehow set him at ease, and evidently, that's exactly what Squall did. He raised a hand and gently threaded them through the teen's hair, curling his fingers into a slight fist and tugging gently.

"The 70's called and they want their haircut back."

Roxas snorted loudly as Cloud and his mother both merely raised their eyebrows, the lady smiling at that frank statement.

It took a while, but after a few beats of silence (with Demyx turning that sentence over and over in his head) the response Squall received was a hearty guffaw as Demyx gently ruffled the boy's hair, grinning merrily. Squall was pleased at this, beaming at him as he raised his arms for Demyx to pick him up.

The teenager promptly scooped him up into his arms, shifting the boy slightly in his hold to help him get as comfortable as possible. Squall leaned into Demyx naturally and tucked his chin above the teenager's shoulder, expression that of contentment as he smiled up at Cloud and his mother.

To his slight surprise, Cloud didn't smile back. He didn't even nod or anything.

"Well then, I suppose that's all. You're capable of handling yourself, and the emergency numbers are on the refrigerator. I'll see you later, dears," Mrs. Strife nodded, smiling before she took Cloud's hand and led them both out of the house.

As the door shut with a firm click behind them, they took a few steps to their parked car in silence, Cloud's mother sliding into the driver's seat as her son buckled himself up beside her. His eyes remained on the window overlooking their front yard, giving him a clear view of the living room. His eyebrows furrowed and the frown formed once again on his face.

When the car didn't start after about five minutes, he turned around to meet his mother's questioning gaze.

"Are you upset about something, sweetheart?"

He shrugged noncommittally, grunting in response.

"Don't you start with me. Is it about leaving Squall alone?"

Cloud glanced sideways at his mother briefly, quickly bringing himself to stare at some random object some distance away.

"Now, there's nothing wrong with leaving Squall with a baby-sitter. After all, that's what they're paid to do," she began, patient as ever. "Demyx is a fine boy and he's darling enough to offer his services completely free because he knows you and I are very busy. And besides, wasn't he a friend of yours while you were still swimming?"

Cloud refused to acknowledge anything she had just said, instead keeping quiet.

She sighed slightly. "Okay, maybe he wasn't a friend. But you left Squall with Yuffie and you didn't get worked up over it."

"I'm not getting worked up over anything," he snapped hotly.

"You are."

"--Not."

Cloud's mother kept quiet for a moment, studying her son and his curious manner for a good minute or so before everything clicked. Her frown dissolved and revealed an understanding grin, eyes smiling once again as that twinkle returned to her kind gaze.

"You're upset that Squall didn't resist your leaving a bit more?"

He averted his eyes.

She chuckled, reaching over and squeezing his hand gently.

xxx

"I do not believe this."

Roxas peered over the screen of the Game Boy in his hands, glancing backwards to find himself looking at a vaguely amused 6-year-old past the shoulder of the teenager who had not only voiced that assertion, but who was also serving as a sort of cushiony wall that he was able to lean against.

"'Sup?" he asked simply, thumb automatically mashing the console's 'A' button as his eyes travelled from the boy to Demyx; or more specifically, to the only visible portion of Demyx's face available to him, which constituted his right ear. The battle theme that was blasting from the relatively powerful speakers in his Game Boy started to swell to a slight crescendo as whatever battle he was fighting began intensifying.

"This kid," Demyx began hollowly, the would-be statement hanging in the air as he gawked at the small brunet who was fluidly sliding his fingers over the bottom of a finely lacquered wooden box that had been propped open. Squall looked up at the teenager with a smug grin.

"Yeah?" Roxas nudged the conversation along apathetically, returning to his Game Boy.

"He beat me at poker. And chess. And now, he's creaming me at backgammon. Backgammon. What kind of freaky super power do you own, kid? I mean, how do you do that?!" he asked frankly, tone and expression that of complete awe as he gazed, stricken, at Squall, who merely raised an eyebrow in response, a small, amused smile on his lips.

Years and years of baby-sitting a wannabe-ninja girl with far too much energy, my young padawan.

Squall sighed softly as he leaned back against the foot of the couch, stretching his legs out before him onto the carpeted floor and blowing a tuft of hair out of his eyes. His gaze wandered to the open window that overlooked the front yard, noting the slightly long grass that would need cutting, to the vague hints of tyre treads in the dust in the driveway, and to the bright blue of the sky as patches of fluffy white clouds floated by indolently with the warm summer winds.

Absentmindedly, he decided that that one cloud to the left over there kind of reminded him of Yoda's head.

He groaned internally, trying his best to keep himself from cringing violently. Okay, so he was sort of a Star Wars fan and he liked science fiction and stuff like that. It was just, you know, interests. You know. Interesting interests hence his being interested enough to buy a few comic issues, and a couple figurines, and all the movies in the series, and. . .

In any case! It was just a lapse. Sure, Squall liked reading, but he, too, had other hobbies. And it didn't help that that Roxas kid was wearing a shirt with a big fat, 'Lego Star Wars,' printed on the front, with a small black Lego Darth holding a plastic lightsaber as he (it?) battled an equally awesome-looking Lego Obi-Wan Kenobi.

God, he missed that game.

Not, uh, like he owned it or anything. Nope.

Okay, dammit fine. So he had followed that cult. Whoopdeedoo. Big deal.

Rubbing his temples a little irately, Squall sat up straighter and squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to knock out those thoughts. On one note, he was glad that he wasn't completely losing it and still retained a great deal of mental prowess belonging to his rightfully 17-year-old self. That was very good. He was getting worried that he had been integrating himself far too well into this. . . this. . . infantile routine. At the end of the day, he was still a teenager and god so help him, he would return to his own body and fix. . . everything.

Well, ignoring the fact, of course, that he technically was in his own body and he had no idea what it was that needed fixing. Trivial details.

Somewhat startled by this strange outburst of optimism, Squall had barely realized when Demyx had left his comfortable seat on the floor (and thereby forcing Roxas to lie down on the ground for lack of anything else to lean up against) and had returned with three mugs of hot chocolate.

The teenager had waved the mug slightly in front of Squall's face, gesturing for him to take it – which Squall did – before he set the third mug by Roxas' head, earning a grunt in acknowledgement as the spiky-haired blond started to mash the buttons on his Game Boy a little more violently now.

"So, kiddo," Demyx had started, sitting down beside Squall and leaning back against the couch as well. "You stay with Cloud long?"

"A couple weeks."

Demyx nodded automatically, taking a quick swig of his drink. Following suit, Squall blew on his a little before taking a few careful sips.

"Hey, wasn't Cloud on the swim team or something? He quit last year, didn't he?"

Two pairs of eyes immediately homed in on Roxas who had taken to staring at the ceiling thoughtfully, console loose in his grip as he curled his thumbs into his fists, leaving the game on to run with some generic city theme playing, muffled, from the speakers that were partially covered by his fingers.

"Yeah, actually. Right before Show Time. You were on the team, too – right, Demyx? What was up with that?"

Demyx was silent for a moment, a light frown pulling on his lips before he shook his head gently, setting down his mug. "I don't know, man," he said. "It was pretty weird. I mean, Cloud was our best swimmer and he was raring and ready to go, y'know? And then this one day, he comes into practice all distracted-like and pale."

"We wanted to speak to him, but because he was the Strife, and Leon's 'aficionados' were constantly looming about and making their presence known, it was hard. And somehow, he didn't want to talk to anyone at all. He was like that for four days, maybe. And man, Cloud was losing weight like mad – it was like he didn't eat or sleep."

Roxas rolled over onto his side, eyes intently watching Demyx's as he explained with a sort of reluctance.

"Anyways, three hours before the team was ready to board the bus for Show Time, Coach gets a call from Cloud. And he says," pausing, Demyx crossed his arms, frown deepening by just a bit as he let out a sigh. "Dropping swim for good. Sorry, Coach."

A long, stretched out silence filled in the void afterwards, each of them lingering in their own thoughts.

Squall was slightly taken aback at this information, first and foremost rueful at the lack of control he had over his so-called admirers. The bullying and the pranks – he could safely wager that the textbook ripping had been the brainchild of some thick junior of his in the track team. Even so, he and Cloud had always been at each other's throats then, but. . . even he knew better than to sink so low.

In any regards, there was one more thing to puzzle over.

Cloud had be coming into swim practice distracted and. . . pale? Squall could barely imagine anything fazing the blond to the extent that he would have been shocked so thoroughly, affecting him until he stopped eating and lost sleep. Gosh, what had he been doing then. . .? Squall thought for a moment.

Show Time wasn't a proper competition, but it was what the students called the chain of athletic contests that were being held throughout that one month. He had been busy training for the hurdles and the shot putt. He couldn't remember a thing about Cloud then; only that he had noted being 'happy' to not have had the 'blond idiot' in his way for once.

"Ah, well. Past is the past," Demyx conceded finally, before he suddenly realized that he was being far too depressing for his own good. Squall's own good. Yeah, they needed to be loud and happy! They were young, weren't they?

"Let's not talk about gloomy things! Come on, more energy! Hey, I tell you what, let's go play basketball or something!" he said with much gusto, a bubbly grin on his face as his gaze darted between Roxas and Squall encouragingly, eyes twinkling.

With a raised brow, Roxas interjected, "Now if only you channelled all that 'positive energy' into not acting like flailing fish half the time. It's a wonder you're even competent at the only job you have."

Feeling frustrated with himself, Squall's eyebrows furrowed and he was about to voice out a question and simultaneously, Demyx himself had opened his mouth to retort, but just then, a shrill, "DO YOU LIKE WAFFLES?" tore through the air, causing all three of them to jump as Demyx fell flat on his face, squashing his nose into the hard parquet.

An expression of pure amazement replaced the blank look on the brunet's face as he stared on at Demyx who was scrambling with what would be a cellular phone that was caught in his pocket (all the while wincing at the sheer volume of the following, "DO YOU LIKE PANCAKES? YEAH, WE LIKE PANCAKES!" as he struggled to get the vibrating phone out of his pants).

After what seemed like several minutes (with the song being repeated a second time), Demyx successfully managed to fish it out of his jeans, thrusting it up into the air with a yell of triumph before realization dawned upon him, Demyx clumsily fumbling with it a second later, flipping it open and pressing it against his ear.

A small smile curled at Squall's lips as a slightly helpless look formed on his face, exhaling through his nose and shaking his head a little at the blond's antics. Maybe, if he had been looking for a 'dumb blond' to pick on – even if he was just clumsy and not dumb – Demyx would have likely been the most appropriate target. But then again, if Demyx was everything like Yuffie (and he nearly was), then they would have actually gotten along just as well.

"WHAT?! RIGHT NOW?!"

Squall's left eye twitched slightly.

Yeah, he was pretty much right.

Demyx's eyes were nearly popping out of his socket as he turned to stare incredulously at Roxas, gesturing wildly at his phone with his free hand as his mouth opened and closed rapidly, completely apprehensive of whatever the speaker was saying on the other end. At one point, if it were even possible, Demyx's eyes widened even more as he whipped his head around and focused all his attention on the conversation at hand.

"No!" he cried, horror-stricken. "No! No way! You can't be doing this to me! I-I-I've got a job and I promised- I promised- and what? What?! You- you're not- But- And-"

There was a brief, yet eerily silent pause.

"What the hell did you just say?! "

Squall watched on with slight detachment as a slender shard of fear that was nestling comfortably in the pit of his stomach began to swell and gently overtake his initial amusement. Demyx grew progressively incensed, his flustered 'flailing fish' disposition completely lost now as his face became even redder, lips pressed together severely until they were completely white, forming a stern, firm line.

Anxious, Squall sat up straight, trying to make sense of what little Demyx was now spluttering out disbelievingly at certain intervals as his body grew stiffer and tenser. Roxas had already discarded his Game Boy, scrambling up onto his feet and discreetly wiggling his toes to regain the feeling in his legs. Expression set seriously as the teenager intently listened; Roxas took a tentative step towards the slightly older blond, halting abruptly when he received the business end of a brutal glare from Demyx.

With a low growl, Demyx snapped his phone shut.

The sharp sound reverberated succinctly through the room.

Roxas and Squall swallowed simultaneously.

Demyx inhaled deeply, eyes squeezing shut as his eyebrows knitted together.

And then, the dam broke.

"Oh my god, we're in the Nationals and I'm not even there. I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die- shit, shit, shit, how am I supposed to get there?! I need to stay here and- and- and- Roxas is a- and oh god what about our routines- and why didn't anyone tell me- and oh my god, what did I do wrong? What, God, WHAT?" he wailed, falling to his knees and pulling at his hair.

Squall opened his mouth for a moment to respond as Roxas uttered something soothingly similar to, "Don't spaz out, Demyx. We'll think of something," before he felt himself get caught in a whirl of blond and blue, a sharp jerk to his stomach causing a would-be yelp of pain and surprise getting caught in his throat as he felt himself barraging through the room at a dizzying speed.

Vaguely, he thought he heard a panicked squeak from the other teenager, but he was too busy trying to keep the bile from rising to his throat as he noticed the front door slamming shut behind them, his body being tossed violently into the air before he landed with a heavy 'THUD' on the sun-warmed leathers of a car seat.

Dazed, Squall hazily struggled to prop himself up on his elbows when he heard the prominent click of a seatbelt, the sound of the key turning in the ignition and revving up the engine resonating through the whole car.

The rev of the engine as the key turned in the ignition – as well the prominent click of a seatbelt – was all Squall could hear as he struggled to prop himself up on his elbows. Still disoriented from the rough handling, he held his face in his hands and tried to steady his focus.

"Hang on tight, mis amigos!"

Squall felt the blood drain from his face.

Oh god, no.

A little later, Squall knew that, if asked about that particular experience, he would only be able to recall a handful of things. He knew that he briefly saw his short 17 years play before his eyes. Things like victories, losses. His parents. The first time he managed to win a race in school. That one time when his dad took him to the beach to eat some ice cream and to go fishing. Mundane things that make life more colourful.

He also knew that his back was being vacuumed by the backseat as the car lurched forward indefinitely. And that all he heard aside from the thunderous engine was a sole voice shrieking the whole time.

It most definitely was not Squall. He'd had enough of his father's manic 'race car' driving, in addition to Yuffie's overenthusiastic 'attempts' behind the wheel, to be too scared. No, Squall hadn't been afraid. He hadn't been the one screaming. In fact, the boy was strangely calm and completely collected as he simply made good each memory that he had, a slight prayer steadily rolling off his lips noiselessly.

Roxas, on the other hand, was crumpled on the floor of the car somewhere beside him. Faintly, Squall could only recall the blond teen's face pressing into the dusty mat, his legs thrashing upright in the air as one of his sneakers came loose, dropping onto the car seat and promptly bouncing up and back behind the headrest with the sheer velocity. He had wondered at one point if Roxas was still caught in that position or if he had had the opportunity to right himself.

Everything had been rushing by so fast; the would-be panorama was nothing more than a grotesque blur of colours that began to make him feel like he was getting coked up and high on some substance. Unable to hold out anymore, Squall had squeezed his eyes shut and just prayed that they wouldn't be involved in an accident.

And finally, there was Demyx – safely buckled into the driver's seat, he was. Of course, that did nothing to hide the fact that he was also being sucked into his seat as well. Arms outstretched before him stiffly as his sweaty palms grappled at the steering wheel, Demyx's foot was jammed all the way down on the pedal, mouth hanging wide open as a singularly seismic scream erupted from him all throughout the 'drive'.

Granted, it didn't help that Demyx was a few years short of legally owning a driver's license, but as Squall managed the only glimpse he was capable of at the speed meter, he let out a pathetic whimper and curled into a slightly foetal position.

An underage driver going 120 over the speed limit?

It was something he would never ever forget, safe to say.

In what seemed like a matter of miliseconds, Squall was already staggering onto the searing hot pavement, losing his footing in his daze and tripping over his own feet as he dropped to his knees and slapped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to stop from hurling. Bile was already rising and clawing at his throat fiercely, the boy squeezing his eyes shut and trying his best to force all the contents of his stomach down.

Completely dizzy and feeling utterly weak, Squall groaned at the increasingly violent pounding in his temples as someone grabbed him by the armpits, threw him over a sturdy shoulder, and then began running like a chicken that had been set on fire. The boy squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself unconscious.

By the time he had come around, Squall found that he was lying flat on his back on something cushiony, like a bench. There was a strong smell of bleach that hung in the air, and strangely, it helped settle his stomach a little. Tilting his head to the side, he managed to flutter his eyes only half-open, vision blurred as he peered tiredly at the dimness ahead. Slowly, he blinked the moisture out of his eyes and he looked a little harder, squinting at the slight figure that was leaning against a wall.

"You up, finally?"

Squall's eyes shot open and he scrambled to sit up, overcome by an overwhelming vertigo before he had to make do with rolling onto his side. Wiping away the sweat from his brow and around his eyes with a hasty brush of the back of his hand, Squall looked up at the approaching person with an expression mixed with awe and relief. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that he wasn't hallucinating.

He could have sung with joy.

"De-Demyx?"

"The one and only, kiddo!" grinned the boy, bending over and ruffling his hair fondly. A look of uncontained jubilation filled Squall completely as he threw his arms around the teenager's waist, squeezing him tight. Amused, and to some extent confused, Demyx's grin merely widened as he let his hands rest on Squall's shoulders, slowly sliding around his head and patting it lightly in a slight embrace.

"You're alive! I'm alive! You-You're-"

Demyx's smile immediately disappeared and was replaced with a miniscule pout as he sniffed dramatically.

"My driving wasn't that bad," he grumbled crossly, prying Squall's arms off of him as he squatted down to be at proper eye level with the boy. He cupped the boy's chin, forcing his face down so that Demyx could look the boy square in the eye, expression completely serious, yet anxious to a degree.

He brushed away Squall's bangs, hand pressing flat against the boy's forehead.

"You're okay, right?" Demyx asked, voice somewhat hollow. His expression was now one of deep concern, tone taking a more panicked edge. "You passed out, and I was really worried about you. How are you-"

"I'm okay," Squall interjected lamely, a timid smile on his face as he beamed at the teenager. "I'm okay." He nodded in affirmation.

Demyx faltered, hand hovering hesitantly over the brunet's forehead before he withdrew it.

"Oy, Demyx! Hurry up, we're on right now!"

Demyx turned to look back, and at that moment, Squall could only realize two things as his eyebrows furrowed.

Firstly, he wondered why he hadn't noticed Demyx's clothing at all before. The blond was wearing a white full dress military uniform, the silver buttons and cuffs that had been sewn on firmly glinting in an almost polished manner under the dim lights.

A blue sash had been folded into a moderately wide strip, buckled on diagonally across his body, securing the uniform in place. A silver tassel had been affixed across his chest regally on top of that strip, his stiff blue collar lined with silver and bearing a small insignia of the school at each end. Fitted tightly around his waist was a blue belt, the buckle a gleaming silver.

Demyx's pristinely white uniform looked newly pressed, a stark contrast of his black shoes that were as dark as night, blue felt spats to match his collar and belt buttoned over those shoes. They even sounded polished as they squeaked when he stood up to his full height, suddenly looking more mature and grown up than he had ever before.

Under his arm was a tall white shako, adorned with a blue plume and a blue strip around the top that was also lined with minute silver rope. Attached above the small white visor was a silver plate bearing the school badge. He was wearing a pair of white gloves with silver buttons, and his dirt blond hair had been gelled and combed back smartly, neatly.

As he jingled with a slight step towards the other figure, Demyx's eyes darted away diffidently from the boy; unaware of the awed look he was receiving from Squall.

He paused, inhaling slowly through his nose as his fluttered shut for a brief moment, a small prayer on his lips.

Squall stood up, walking slowly to Demyx's side and raising a hand. He meant to gently grasp the teen's freshly ironed trousers, but he couldn't. He stared, transfixed, at the older boy.

When Demyx finally exhaled, his sea green eyes slowly opened, revealing the fire of pure determination burning deep within his gaze as he set his jaw and, bending over to retrieve a black mace with a silver handle and crown, marched valiantly out the door, fitting the hat securely on his head and buckling it under his chin. He glanced to the right, nodding curtly at the other person before taking confident strides onto a well-manicured field to an army of smartly dressed white uniforms.

As though hypnotised, not once did Squall blink, eyes never leaving Demyx as the teenager took his position on the pitch and brought his hands together closely on the mace head.

Something warm rested on his head, and Squall felt himself snapping out of the spell, looking up to find the familiar face of someone smiling down serenely at him. Someone he had only earlier recognized before his attention had been stolen away completely by the blond teenager.

Secondly. . . Secondly, he didn't know why he hadn't noticed this person earlier.

"Yuffie?"

His whispering voice was drowned out by the sudden rush of cymbals and snare drums as the wild roars and cheers from the audience outside rose by a notch before falling completely silent as the quivering timbre of the flutes and trumpets began to grow louder. Squall closed his mouth in resignation; eyes still on the girl as she gently wheeled him back into the building and lead them away from the music.

Step after step, his eyes flickered up ahead, not daring to look back. His legs felt heavier with each step. His footfalls echoed loudly through the hollow, dimly lit hallways as his eyes roamed the dusty linoleum floors. His hands were jammed into his pockets and finally, when she came to a stop, he, too, halted.

His eyes were still trained on the floor, lips still twisted in his usual, thoughtful frown as Yuffie smiled softly at him and slowly lowered herself to sit down on the bottom steps of a flight of stairs located directly in front of the boy.

She allowed the silence to stretch only for a moment longer before she finally opened her mouth to speak.

"So how's the body been treating you?" she asked simply. Squall's gaze darted upwards before he sighed, standing straighter and running a hand through his hair.

"I've gotten too used to it," he replied tiredly, fisting his hand in his hair and tugging slightly at his short brown tresses. "I've gotten the hang of being a kid, and I've managed to blend in well enough – make them think I really am some 6-year-old. But," he paused for a while, looking down at his feet before sighing again.

"Play time's over, Yuffie," he said, looking directly at her. His voice was that of deep conviction, an air of exhaustion and desperation hanging gloomily around him. At that moment, he felt a million years old in trying to maintain this ridiculous façade, as though he'd been forced to lie all his life. He was so sick and tired of being something he was not. The indescribable loneliness that he was experiencing was tearing him to pieces because he was fighting this horrible fight all alone. Unable to speak his mind, unable to be taken seriously, unable to act on his feelings. . .

He couldn't take it anymore.

"Is there. . ." his voice faltered slightly. "Is there any news about the antidote?"

Squall remained silent in his patience as Yuffie's gaze grew downcast, the teenage girl scratching her cheek in an almost sheepishly apologetic manner. She coughed lightly, clearing her throat before she drew her legs together and wound her arms around them, head inclining to the side and resting neatly on her bare knees.

"About that," she began with a small sigh. "I've got good news and bad news."

Apprehensively, Squall stood at attention; listening raptly and leaning in a little closer as his body stiffened. He was edgy, expression grave, and Yuffie glanced at him before playfully smacking him upside the head with a grin. "Don't be so tense; it's not that bad, okay? Relax a little, Leon."

Leon.

How long had it been since someone last called him that?

A part of him grew cold as his heart clenched painfully with realization.

. . . he wasn't used to that name.

"In any case," Yuffie said. "I've managed to talk Professor Ansem into helping us out. He said that he and one of his students at a local university will be working on the antidote," she paused, glancing at the boy. "We'll have to swing by their place later. They need some of your DNA – hair samples; stuff like that."

He nodded uncertainly.

". . . How long will it take?" Years?

Yuffie's eyes averted to the ceiling as she bit her bottom lip, leaning backwards in deep thought. "I'd say. . . Well. . ."

She glanced at him.

"Aerith and I had worked out part of the anti. And when the Professor agreed to it, he managed to get into the library to dig out the book that contained original recipe for it, too. Since Aerith and I are somewhat well-read with the language Cetra, he scanned the recipe and passed it to both of us to decipher," she explained in an as-a-matter-of-factly tone.

"Give or take a few days, it should be done by the end of the month. New moon and all – some moonflowers we need will be in bloom by then."

Squall paused heavily, looking hard at the girl.

"Are you. . . absolutely sure? There isn't some catch? That I have to wait for 3 months before my body goes back to normal? I-I. . ." his breath hitched slightly as his heart sank. "I won't. . . lose my memory, will I?"

She looked at him squarely, a thin smile on her face.

"The only catch is that you can only make the anti once a month. If you miss the new moon, you'll have to wait for the next month to try again. You're pretty lucky that the end of the month is only a week and a half away, so cheer up, okay?"

"I. . . suppose," he replied with a slight exhalation of air, relief washing through him in waves as he crossed his arms and shifted his weight to his left foot. After a brief instance, he frowned thoughtfully and turned to Yuffie once again. "Are you sure?"

"Are you sure that you can last until the end of the month?" she retorted with a slight giggle. "I mean, you're staying at Cloud Strife's house, after all. Here I was thinking that his house would be half-gone by the next time I came around."

"It might as well, at the rate they're going," he muttered to himself darkly.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Huh," she responded charily, crossing her arms and stretching her legs as she sat up straight. Yuffie cocked an eyebrow, scrutinizing Squall. He refused to give in, matching her stare head on with furrowed brows and an equally defiant look of his own. Squall scowled sternly, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes irately.

Now, let it be known that Yuffie was no idiot. Sure, she could be unbearably perky-happy at times, and maybe even dense to a fault when she had no inclination to think very hard. Nevertheless, she was extremely sensitive to other people's emotions and she knew for a fact that Squall was being jittery and secretive.

Call it a woman's intuition, if you would. She could easily tell that he was hiding something, and considering their current situation, it seemed very unlikely that there was anything worth concealing – especially between them. Unless, of course, it was something stupid like him wetting the bed or something equally demoralising like that. Even so, Squall wasn't the type to linger on anything like that. He'd keep silent on it and make it seem as though it never happened until everyone forgot about it completely. That was just the way he was.

In any case, there was just no reason for Squall to hide anything from Yuffie.

. . . unless maybe something had happened between him and Cloud?

Oh right, Cloud. They seemed to be pret-ty darn close now. Spikes must have worked his magic and turned Squall into pure goo.

But, nah. Couldn't have been that. . .

Could it?

Yuffie opened her mouth to speak, hesitating just for a moment, but that moment was all it took to steal away her momentum because at that precise moment, something white had sprinted across the hall in a matter of nanoseconds and jumped on the poor, small brunet boy; his long, sturdy arms wrapping around Squall's head and squeezing almost painfully as it sent the two of them toppling them into a tangled heap of limbs and ropes as the force of the tackle caused them to slide a few paces away across the floor.

"WE WON, WE WON, WE WON!"

Before Squall could groan in pain, a resounding roar tore through the building, bouncing off the walls as the heavy rush of feet poured into the corridors. From all corners, red-faced teenagers with mussed hair, dishevelled white-and-blue uniforms, and 1,000 watt grins on their faces were tumbling and tripping over each other, half of them clinging to one another in tight hugs as the others danced through the hallway and high-fived their friends, laughing and cheering at the top of their lungs.

All throughout, the same cry was repeated over and over again.

"We won!"

xxx
The victory party was held at the town's only pizza parlour, and the adults who had promised to foot the bill (upon their victory) had cheerfully told them to eat until they were in a food coma. Not just the band members, but the school fan club (which did exist, and in a very organised hierarchy, to boot), too filled the entire premise, their shining brass instruments lined up against a wall and black berets strewn all over the floor.

Somehow or rather, Squall had gotten dragged along and was sitting at a table with Yuffie and a handful of somewhat familiar persons. Due to his height, the only thing visible of the boy was his head and a bit of his shoulders, but nothing more. No one was really aware of his presence, in any case, because everyone was chattering excitedly with one another, and a handful of fan club members were passing around their cameras to take photographs or to show the band members what they had managed to catch of them during the competition.

Quietly, Squall managed to recognise a few faces in the crowd. Most of them were fan club members who came to his sporting events – easily identifiable by the telltale white headbands that had been tied around their foreheads – but he was surprised to find a couple classmates with whom he sometimes hung out with were band members.

At his table, Sora and Tidus were seated directly opposite Squall, chatting animatedly with Yuffie (who, as it turned out, was the manager for the band). Tidus' white fan club headband had been knotted around his right upper arm, and he had a black camera looped around his neck. Sora, on the other hand, was in the white uniform, though he had rolled up the sleeves and had discarded his belt and ornamental cords.

In the back of his mind, Squall somehow knew that Tidus was the school's star blitzball player, and vaguely he wondered how the blond had the time to juggle being a member of the fan club and yet still play sports actively.

Whooping and cheering disrupted his train of thought as he looked around to see everyone banging their fists on their tables, clamouring for Demyx, calling for a speech. The blond drum major was bashfully attempting to decline, face growing a violent shade of red, but in a matter of moments, he had been pushed and shoved by his adoring fans to the front of the restaurant.

Immediately, a hush fell upon the crowd, and everyone – including the adults, waiters and restaurateurs – was looking intently at him, their eyes shining in appreciation.

Awkwardly, Demyx cleared his throat, nervously scratching the back of his head.

"Boy, did they pick the wrong guy for this job. . ." he muttered, but everyone heard it and chuckled good naturedly.

There was some murmur of encouragement from a handful of people in the front, and a stray, "Get on with it!" that eventually got Demyx to wizen up and at least attempt a halfway-decent speech.

"So, uh," he began, assuming a slightly more serious expression, "We, uh, we won." Approving cheers and more table banging. Demyx grew a little more heartened at that. He straightened up and grinned. "And we won pret-ty damn glorious-like, if I do say so myself. Which I am. Did. Okay."

Ignoring the sniggers, Demyx continued on, bolstered. "And it took a lot out of us to win. And I do mean a lot. You guys should know really well. Especially you, Pence."

A plump teenager with dark, messy hair laughed and raised a hand with an almost-but-not-quite apologetic grin. Immediately, the other band members around him started either ruffling his hair fondly, or used their instrument cases to pretend to whack him over the head.

"And even though I appreciate the sentiments in keeping certain big events like us-getting-into-the-Nationals a surprise, especially to someone, like me, who has worked his ass off for that very reason, I highly deplore keeping it a secret for far too long until you forget to inform me altogether."

There were a few awkward coughs and small chortles.

"Not funny, okay. I totally freaked at that," Demyx frowned. "I mean, I had to drive here. And I'm not even supposed to! This cop was chasing me all the way and the coach had to step in and 'negotiate' with him once I arrived. By the way, how is the officer?" Demyx asked, turning to Yuffie.

"He's still out!"

"Ah, okay then."

Squall rolled his eyes, arms crossing across his chest.

"But seriously guys, I had to baby-sit, okay? And Roxas gets motion sickness. Think of them! Think of the poor people who cannot drive, and who get carsick, and who can barely see straight because of their poor undeveloped immunity to speeding! The trauma was horrible, okay? And-"

"Oh, for the love of everything that is sacred and holy, will you shut up already so we can eat?!"

There was a roar of approval and people shouting for the pizzas to be served. Demyx pouted, narrowing his eyes as he sighed in resignation.

So much for his 'adoring fans'.

And so, with that, the pizza parlour once again buzzed with life as the kitchen went into overdrive, churning out pizza after pizza, the kids toasting one another with pints of soda and juice. There were loud cheers coming from one end of the place – some sort of eating or arm-wrestling contest was going on, as it appeared. Squall wouldn't have known even if he had tried.

In any case, there they were, eating. Squall helped himself to a slice of a pizza that had been heavily peppered with pepperoni and was nibbling his food quietly, surveying the place as the others made small talk. It was sort of fun, just hanging out. He found that he rather liked sitting around with food, being entertained by some stray gossip or the other by the people who were sitting with him.

Better yet, he could actually relate to the piece of gossip that Tidus and Yuffie were exchanging.

"So like, I heard that Zell Dincht from the track team is going to get an athletic scholarship in Zanarkand."

"You're kidding me," Tidus moaned, slapping his forehead. "The scouts already came?! Did you hear anything about blitz? Please tell me you heard something about blitz, Yuffie, please."

"I dunno, man," she said, sipping her drink and leaning back in her seat. "There was something about Wakka though. . ."

"Whaaat?! What about Wakka?!"

"Oh, that rumour?" Sora interjected, chewing on a breadstick thoughtfully. "Wakka said that he did get a call from the scouts, but they were asking him for the Spira Cup Tournament's schedule. He's the captain and the team manager, right? I'm not too surprised."

"So. . . so they haven't come yet? It'll only be at the Spira Cup?" Tidus asked Sora, eyes swimming in hopefulness. The spiky-haired brunet grinned and nodded. Tidus let out a breath of relief, slumping in his seat. "Thank goodness. No way I'm gonna pass that kind of chance up."

"So Zell's getting a scholarship to Zanarkand?" Sora asked Yuffie instead. "Wow, that's pretty prestigious. But I thought Leon would get it, since he's the number one runner and a senior."

Squall's ears perked at that and he listened just a little more intently.

"Leon? Oh yeah, no doubt about it," Tidus responded through a mouthful of pizza. He took a moment to chew and swallow before downing it with some cola. "The deal is, I overheard some of the instructors saying that because Leon's been bullying someone – you know that whole textbook deal – so they thought that at least someone with more enthusiasm like Zell would benefit from the scholarship."

"Seriously?" Sora asked, leaning forward. "Man, that really sucks. I mean, they're basically scrapping him of any chance because of hearsay. That's a total waste of perfectly awesome talent!"

"Yeah, I'll say," Yuffie responded absentmindedly, giving Squall a sidelong glance and nudging him slightly with her foot. He chose to ignore her.

"I agree with that course of action, though," Tidus pointed out. "It would be horrible if we had jerks in really prominent positions."

"But it's all just hearsay," Sora argued back. "I mean, sure, Leon's not the friendliest guy this side of the hemisphere, but can they prove that he's a bully? Everyone just presumes that Leon did whatever he did. What if it turned out to be someone else? What is it was the other guy that's been doing all the provoking?"

Tidus shrugged, taking an enormous bite out of his pizza.

"S'far as I'm concerned," he said through mouthfuls, "I've heard the rumours and I've seen it with my own two eyes. That other guy and Leon? They want to gouge each other's eyes out. And they probably would, in all frankness. I think they just refrain from doing so out of public decency."

"There's just no way it could be that bad," Sora scoffed, stealing Tidus' cola.

Yuffie and Tidus snorted simultaneously.

"I mean, Leon's my senior for the IT Club and I'll have you know he's nothing like what the rumours say about him having broken some kid's leg, or. . . or dislocating his right shoulder! He's quiet and sometimes pretty standoffish, yeah, but he wouldn't go to that extent," Sora said with a huff, crossing his arms.

"I'll agree with you on that last part. But just so you know, it was a broken ankle and not a leg," Yuffie said as-a-matter-of-factly. Tidus nudged her hard, sniggering. Sora and Squall simultaneously glared at the pair.

"Ha-ha. Hilarious. But I still stand by the fact that Leon was not the person who tore up that textbook. If you ask me, I think that the 'victim'," Sora said, bringing both hands up in fists and hooking his middle and index fingers in the gesture of quotation, "Was the one who tore up his book to frame Leon."

Strangely, Squall felt something inside him that had been cool and watery flaring up with heat, bubbling furiously as he slowly turned to look at Sora – really look at the boy. He was grateful that an underclassman of his was loyal and trustful enough of him, but he felt so. . . livid. Enraged, even.

Under the table, Squall clenched his hands hard, his fingernails digging into the palm of his heel as his knuckles turned white at the sheer force.

Oblivious to Squall and his anger, Sora had just continued on. "I mean, has anyone seen Leon actually going around and goading this guy? And somehow, he is always the victim. Has Leon ever been let off? Never. Not once. It's ridiculous!"

"Kid," Tidus managed incredulously, in complete awe. "You've obviously never seen Leon on a warpath."

"And who is the other guy anyways?" the youngest teenager demanded, ignoring the blond. "Someone keeps telling me it's an Irving Kinneas but I have no clue."

Tidus and Yuffie both choked on their pizzas, thumping their tightly clenched fists against their chests in an attempt to de-clog their respective oesophaguses. Sora stared at both of them, puzzled, as Squall silently raised a fine brow, expression less than impressed.

Once Yuffie managed to take a deep swig of her soda, she dissolved into incredulous giggles, slapping the table with a hand as she keeled over in laughter. Tidus had turned a little blue from the lack of oxygen, but after he managed to cough out the huge chunk of cheese and pineapple that had been lodged in his throat, he sank in his chair weakly, a lame grin on his face.

"Irving. . . Irving Kinneas, he says," Yuffie managed, her laughter receding. She wiped the tears away from her eyes. "Sora, where have you been? Irvine isn't even in school, let alone our school. Irvine Kinneas is a world-famous marksman, you goofball!"

Sora pouted, tossing a glare at Tidus who was still chuckling feebly.

"Okay, okay, I get the point," he grumbled slightly. "So who's the other guy?"

"He's um, what was it. . . Cloud Stripes. . .?"

"Strife."

All eyes turned to look at the source of that quiet voice.

Squall was glowering silently, eyes narrowed almost dangerously so as he felt a great measure of irritation plague him. What he would give to give these kids a few good hits; maybe kick them around a bit. Yeah, that would be satisfaction beyond measure.

"His name," Squall resumed after a painful beat of silence, speaking slowly, as though trying to explain a difficult sum to a child. "Is Cloud Strife."

The other two boys exchanged uncertain glances, Yuffie staring on at Squall listlessly, unable to place that strange feeling she was getting from him. Squall had been acting weird all day long, and it wasn't because of his current state. He hadn't changed that much personality-wise, and he seemed to be affected by something. What, she hadn't a clue, but she was beginning to suspect that something a little more serious had happened between Cloud and Squall.

"Oh?" Tidus asked, expression a little vacant. His misty blue eyes were trained studiously on the small boy, eyebrows knitted together as he chewed on his bottom lip. "Strife, huh? It's sad to say that it sort of suits him. He's always gloomy and, sometimes, sorry to say, he can just be plain bad luck."

"Whatever," Squall countered icily, eyes narrowing into tiny slits as he bared his teeth, hissing through his clenched jaws. What did they know? They didn't know squat about Cloud. They didn't have any right to say those kind of things about him. They didn't know what he was like, didn't know what he'd had to suffer through, didn't know his pain. Bunch of obnoxious, idiotic brats. "Go talk to a wall."

The uncomfortable silence stretched out longer than before, a dull buzzing sound filling in the void of noise that was barely masked by the idle chatter of the restaurant. Squall's piercingly sharp gaze didn't waver in the least, keeping it even with all three teenagers, lips still twisted into a frown.

"Are you Leon's demon spawn or something?" Tidus blurted out all of a sudden, eyes widening at the boy.

Squall effectively blinked. Twice. Thrice.

His jaw slackened, gaze losing its sharpness and declining into a dull stare.

"Mr. Loire didn't have a secret son or something did he? Because I've met Ellone and she is everything like him, and Leon is just weird in that family and. . ."

"No way, I heard from Demyx that the kid's staying with Aerith," Sora interjected with an excited whisper, gaze switching conspiratorially between Tidus and Squall.

Yuffie was trying to suppress her laughter, biting down on her quivering lower lip and nonchalantly wiping her mouth with a napkin, carefully looking away from their table.

"Aerith? Aerith Gainsborough?" Tidus pressed incredulously. "Don't tell me that. . . that. . ."

Yuffie accidently let out a strangled sound, sniggering quietly as Squall continued to stare, dumbfounded, at the pair of teenagers. He could see the cogs turning in their heads but honestly, they were unpredictable and he could not, for the life of him, gauge what was to happen.

Sora and Tidus were still huddled together, whispering quickly as stray mentions of 'his looks' to 'that eye colour' to 'no effing way' and 'but the resemblance' floated airily past the table. And finally. . .

"What?! Leon and Aerith had a LOVE CHILD?!"

The pizza parlour fell silent, a few hundred eyes homing in on their table.

Squall's jaw fell and hit the table as he grew pale.

In the distance, someone choked on their food and started coughing violently.

And then, Yuffie howled with laughter.

Soon enough, half the restaurant were either immersed in this new piece of gossip, or laughing their heads off at the simple prospect of Leon scoring any ass, much less Aerith's.

Finally regaining what little composure he had, Squall slapped a hand over his face, mumbling incoherently under his breath as he got down from his seat and started walking to the exit.

It took a while, but eventually, Yuffie managed to overcome the utter hilarity of everything and threw a handful of breadsticks at Tidus' and Sora's heads.

"What are you, dumb or something?! Squall's 6 years old! Oh yeah, Leon and Aerith totally had sex and conceived him at age 11."

More laughter ensued at this, and Tidus and Sora looked at each other for a beat before equally stupid grins formed on their faces and both boys sank in their chair in relief, simultaneously going, "Ohhhhhhhh, right!"

Yuffie slumped over and began to giggle hysterically.

xxx

A blast of cool night air washed over his face as Squall stepped out of the pizza place, the boy allowing his eyes to flutter shut as he let out a tired sigh. He had his hands jammed in his pockets, dragging his feet along the pavement as he walked just a few steps away from the noisy restaurant.

Running a hand through his hair, Squall had no idea how he was going to handle that rumour once he changed back. Once he changed back. More like if he changed back. He wished to the high heavens that some saint would waltz along and solve this predicament for him, but somehow he knew that he couldn't help but wait until he saw Ansem again – preferably with some results.

Ansem had slipped in earlier on the way to the victory party – mentioning a phone call and Yuffie – quickly pulling out a few hairs from his head, and then speeding off with a sullen long haired blond in the driver's seat – presumably that Vexen student that Yuffie had told him about earlier that day.

Tilting his head upwards to stare at the half-moon in the sky that was partially hidden by patches of dark clouds, Squall exhaled quietly. With some resolve and an inch of gratitude at the fact that Yuffie wasn't leaving him to his own fate, he made himself a promise to hold out, if not just a bit longer.

He heard some muffled sounds – sounds akin to whispers – coming from an alley beside the restaurant and curiously, quietly, made his way over, hiding himself behind a wall and peeking out just a little – unable to totally see the figures as they were shrouded in the shadows that loomed the passage.

"Now what about the Strife job I told you to get done, eh?"

That mirthful voice was deep and husky, tinged with a clear, Northern brogue.

There was a slight rustling of clothing and a sharp, "Hmph," that responded.

That Northerner chuckled throatily, a slight movement indicating that he was reaching into a breast pocket. This time, Squall could hear the crinkling sound of paper.

"See it? Now give me what you've got and maybe I'll let you in on some of it," the Northerner said a little more sharply, that teasing lilt in his voice completely gone now, though still soft.

"Fine," the other person replied a little irately. His voice was lighter, a little higher. "But make it snappy. God knows what would happen if a cop or a friend sees me with someone like you."

Squall knew that voice.

Demyx?

"I checked her schedule," the teenager continued, voice this time almost fond, but clearly guilty. "It'll be on Thursday. Just this once."

"Only?" the Northerner asked, clearly a bit agitated. "Okay. . . All right then. Looks like I'll have to commence a little earlier than expected. Did you-"

"Hurry up and pay me," Demyx interrupted deliberately.

Squall swore that he saw the man smile.

"I suppose you're right, lad," he said with a hint of a laugh, counting a few notes and passing it to Demyx who merely snatched the money and pocketed it quickly. "Don't want you mixed up in underground business."

"Underground my foot," Demyx snorted in response, shifting his weight to his other foot. He paused hesitantly before looking up at the man, voice just a bit timid. "Today, did you. . .?"

The Northerner's teeth glinted slightly in the dim light as he grinned.

"You best be moving along now, lad," he said instead, voice low. "Congratulations, by the way. Some party you have going there."

Squall leaned back, pressing himself against the wall as the man fluidly strode out of the alley, tipped his hat over his face, and walked away with a slight jingle to his step – he must have been wearing a chain or had some loose change or something.

Somewhat transfixed, his eyes remained on the man's back until he disappeared at a corner, Squall deep in thought as he puzzled over what had just happened. He was unaware of the slightly desolate and unsatisfied noise that Demyx had made then, leaning back against the wall of the alley and dully gazing up at the stars.

What the hell had that been? Seriously. And 'Strife'? That name had been popping up far too much for Squall's liking. He just didn't want to think about it. Job? Underground? And Cloud. . .

Cloud.

He dropped his gaze to the pavement, fully aware that he didn't want to think of Cloud especially. He'd been pushing away any and all thoughts of the blond since this morning – and with good reason, too. What Squall had seen had stirred something that. . . well, something he had left stagnant, to put it simply.

Well, certainly he himself had had his own fair share of porn as a blossoming teenager. He was a guy, after all. But he had something he was infinitely proud of, and he liked to call it 'self-control'. When he had chanced the look at Cloud's folders, he had been completely unprepared, caught totally off-guard. Weeks of getting used to asking for and saying whatever it was he wanted had beaten his tough, mature mask into a pathetic pulp that had then been tossed into a dirty toilet bowl and flushed into a piranha-infested Amazon river.

Squall had been very uncomfortable throughout the day, and it showed, and he knew it showed. He had tried his best to smooth things over, tried his best to appear as normal as he possibly could, but it wasn't exactly a cakewalk. Constantly fidgeting and keeping as far away from people as he could, Squall had been feeling complete dread at the fact – and he did indeed acknowledge it – that he was. . . turned on.

It was a completely new experience, to feel this kind of thing in this type of body. 'Squall' hadn't hit puberty yet, had he? There wasn't much that could be done, considering the fact that as Leon he had had a very quick and sure fire way to 'cure' himself of his current 'ailment', so he did the only he could come up with: hold it in.

But, god, why did it get worse each time Cloud came about?

He'd been having this silly crush on the blond after realizing that he was indeed a kindred spirit – having illusions of them being brothers, almost. That respect, and that longing to be as strong and mature – yes, he knew that he'd looked up to Cloud immensely since he had been taken in.

Was Squall embarrassed that Cloud had caught him seeing? Or. . . did he. . .

Did he really. . . feel that way?

Eyes fluttering shut, Squall sighed softly, cursing mentally when Cloud's cherubic sleeping-face came to mind. His slightly parted full lips. His smooth, tan skin dotted with light freckles. His long, blond lashes. The hint of muscle that rippled gently under his loose shirt.

His serene smile.

Squall's breath hitched slightly, lashes hooded low over his eyes as he gazed at a pebble on the street, a distracted expression on his face as he thought deep and long. A slight wind picked up, and, feeling cold, the boy crossed his arms, huddling together a little to keep warm.

"Yo, kiddo. What're you doing all alone out here?" asked a listless voice.

Squall looked up, gaze boring into Demyx's tired sea green eyes. Holding his gaze for a good minute, Squall sighed again, looking down and shifting his weight to his other foot as he breathed out a, "Just thinking."

"Oh yeah?" Demyx asked, a smile flitting across his lips as he relaxed slightly, losing whatever tenseness that had been weighing him down. He walked over to the small brunet, nudging him slightly with his knee and standing behind him before dropping down onto the pavement with Squall standing between his legs.

With a soft smile, Demyx pulled the kid down, bringing his legs up and folding his arms together, leaning his elbows on his knees. Squall paused momentarily before slumping, tilting his body to the side and leaning against Demyx's arm and leg.

"So what were you thinking about?" Demyx asked quietly, tucking Squall's head under his chin. Squall shrugged half-heartedly, closing his eyes. "Lotsa things."

"Yeah, me too," the teenager responded. He shifted slightly, glancing at the boy. "You okay there, buddy?"

I'm fine, Dem-Dem-Dem-" Squall yawned rubbing his eyes lamely, nuzzling into the blond's white pants slightly before wrapping his arms around Demyx's calf. He chuckled in response, squeezing the boy a bit.

"Dem-Dem, huh? I like that. If Roxas heard you, he'd tell you to call me 'Dum-Dum' instead," Demyx offered jokingly. Squall smiled lightly, briefly, raising his head to look up at the teenager before he managed to catch something at the corner of his eye.

Squall's eyes widened slightly, his stomach doing a violent somersault.

A few streets away was Cloud Strife, spiky blond hair a little dishevelled and sweat drenched clothes clinging to his body stubbornly. There were clear grease stains on his elbows where his sleeves had been folded, and some smudges of it on his face. He had in his left hand a cellular phone, one that he had just hung up as he walked towards them.

When their eyes met, Squall had gone a little pale. He looked away abruptly, feeling his face grow even hotter, his body reacting before his mind could. He squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in Demyx's arms and pretending to be fast asleep as his fingers curled into the teenager's trousers.

Cloud halted mid-step, expression that of puzzlement before his face fell, a frown marring his dirty face as he clenched his fists and dropped his gaze to the road. Crestfallen, he hesitantly turned around, throwing a final doleful glance to the boy whom he could see was awake before he forced himself to walk down a dim street lit by a flickering street lamp, jamming his hands in his pockets.

Biting on his lower lip, Cloud couldn't help but feel a rise of anger, of dissatisfaction at Demyx. Demyx did no wrong, that was for sure, but. . .

He had been the one to make Squall warm up to people, hadn't he? Everyone was now coddling and talking to Squall because of his efforts, right?

Why was Squall pushing him away?

Did he do something wrong?

Cloud went a little cold at the prospect, trepidation chilling him faster than the frosty night wind. His mind was reeling – did it have something to do with Xigbar's appearance? Oh god, what was Squall thinking? Cloud didn't have a clue, couldn't read the boy or his thoughts at all and that scared him.

He had never felt so scared before.

What was happening?

---

A/N: Hello everyone! This is by far the longest (and I fear it may also be the boringest) chapter yet. I've been rushing to finish it because I'm to leave for Kenya in about 10 hours. D:

So! New Year has come and gone and we're well into 2007. I've got a major exam to sit for this year (as I am a secondary school senior), and it's a bitter-sweet thing for me to say that this fic is half-finished. After angsting muchosly over the plot, I'll tell you that you can expect it to end by chapter 14 or 15.

And as for the Squall Leon problem? It's going to be resolved relatively soon.

Thank you so much for your support the past year, everyone! Enjoy this chapter, folks:D