The sylph like blonde sprinted across the room before one of her maroon-gloved hands managed to grasp the lever and yank it downwards with all her strength, ensuring that she and her team have completed their task in General Caraway's plan: his plan to assassinate the sorceress Edea during her welcoming parade in Deling City.

Having not unwound in several decades, the rusted chains snapped, link by link. A low, defeated groan interrupted the "oohs" and "aahs!" of the crowd, forcing their attention to turn towards the city's gate, in which their future of power, their promise of their Galbadian dominion over those who would resist their authority, was imprisoned. Edea's neon float shone in response to their beating hearts and triumphant dancers.

"I...I can't," came the response. The normally hard, precise exterior of Galbadia GARDEN' assasin was shattered into indistinct fragments which sparkled dully on the illuminated carousel's roof. His body trembled greatly, and his breathing was laboured and forced. Squall reached out a hand to touch Irvine's hand, but drew back quickly as if he was stung. The gunman's flesh was as liquid ice: a sheathe clammy skin that threatened to give way to an onrush of fluid fear.

The sniper rifle's parts, for all their oiled precision clicked clumsily as the firearm shook in sync with Irvine's own uncontrolled movements. "I can't do it, Squall. I'm sorry." the voice was hushed and thick, a definitive cloying had made itself known within the young soldier's throat.

Squall reclined back on his haunches and thought carefully of the current situation: Quistis' team was had succeeded in trapping the sorceress' ostentatiously gilded float within the confines of Deling City's gate house. The holographic clowns upon the carousel danced mindlessly upon an invisible axis, briefly inundating the tan colour of Irvine's clothing with magenta, canary, and cyan. "Edea is secured and Irvine must shoot her now," he resolved, returning to the immediate crisis.

"Irvine.." he began nervously, attempting to break through his own frozen exterior as he searched for an appropriate phrase. "It's okay..."

"What?" Asked Kinneas. His black hat obscured his eyes and the bridge of his nose, yet didn't prevent Squall from catching sight of the two crystalline drops, tinctured with the explosions of colour that rang out from the fireworks in the night sky. "I get like this whenever up under pressure, but it was never this bad. My actions, Squall, can change Galbadia's history for the worst-think of how many people will forever remember me as the heroine Edea's assasin! I can't have that on my conscious...."

"But if she isn't killed, this war will escalate and more innocent people will be slaughtered. There won't be enough SeeDs to prevent the bloodshed that will result. You must shoot her, Irvine, to protect the future of our world!"

"Who is to say innocent people won't get caught in the ensuing crossfire? If I kill the sorceress, I'm responsible for the repercussions," he sobbed quietly at his own failure, as well as that to his team leader and the nation of Galbadia itself. Suddenly, an affectionate hand grasped his arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. The shadow on his face receded as his hat's brim rose, revealing a pair of bewildered eyes that tried to comprehend Squall's lopsided smile which was so very uncharacteristic of him to display.

"Even if you miss, I'll cover for you. The important thing is to just shoot...leave the rest to me if your bullet doesn't make contact," he reassured the shaking marksman.

"Really?"

"We're a team, and we have an assignment that must be carried out by any means possible.

"Right."

Picking up the rifle by its stock, Irvine produced a fresh clip of ammunition and inserted it into the gun. Panther like, he crept to the edge of the carousel's roof and knelt on one knee, bringing the scope to his eye.

The Galbadian grew deathly silent, hearing all the excited voices melt into a droning hum, a collective of hypnotized individuals celebrating their approaching destruction at Edea's hands. The world around him became a blur; the holograms ceased to gyrate, the clock ceased to tick as everything within Irvine Kinneas' body focused on that one instant which would herald a new beginning.....or a messy end.

Instinctively, his lungs drew in minuscule amounts of air, quieting the faint rustling of his coat. His heart rate began to decrease dramatically, the beats becoming so distant from one another that there could have been none at all. Then....

Irvine Kinneas' heart stopped completely.

He pulled the trigger and steadied himself to compensate for the recoil of the firearm as it ejected a bullet in on direct course for the center of the sorceress' forehead.

Edea smiled, blinked, and deflected the projectile with a burst of blue light, and the would-be assasin watched helplessly as his newfound friend leapt over the edge and attacked the witch and her knight, Seifer.

Irvine knew Squall was in danger when the blond-haired guard fell in a heap, leaving the sorceress powers a clear path to attack the young SeeD. Tapping Rinoa on the shoulder, they managed to join their comrade in the onslaught against pure evil.

"Good SeeDs ensure the rebirth of a healthy GARDEN. We'll meet again after your germination," she hissed, her yellowed eyes and violet silk melting flawlessly into the cloak of the night. "And you will die...."

"I didn't," he replied, the shadow returned to his eyes, rescuing them from looks of blame and disgrace where there none. "The sorceress...."

"Irvine is correct, Selphie," soothed Quistis, her hand setting a pair of intelligent-looking glasses upon the bridge of her nose. Kneeling on the ground, she grasped Squall's limp hand and checked for his pulse and breathing levels. "Shit....it's just as I thought: a flash-banger. I'm sorry, Squall, you're going to be hurting for awhile."

"So how is he?" Rinoa clutched her hands together, her bleached bangs floating in the gentle breeze which made its way through the bars of the gate. "Is he.....dead?"

"No. Squall is suffering from what is called a "flash-bang" attack. Edea's bolt or whatever spell she used to take him out looked more serious than it was. However, the shock of being struck with something of that magnitude always has a rather painful side effect: the adrenaline that is generated in response to the assault flash-cooks the victim's system."

"So that's what that smell is!" Exclaimed Zell, a wide grin forming on his lips. "I thought someone was having a barbecue!" His quip was met with Selphie's sharp elbow to his ribs, causing him to double over and cough painfully. "You're too violent!"

"How can I not be when Squally here is toaster-caked!"

"Children, stop this bickering! Squall will be fine!" Quistis commanded, her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth drew into a small scowl. Everyone stared at her questioningly, for they knew her instructor's license had been terminated several days prior to the Galbadia incident. Her crystal-blue eyes went wide with embarrassment, and she blushed gracefully as her former students began to snicker. "I'm sorry, guys.....I forgot!"

Ignoring the others, who were laughing despite the seriousness of the moment, Irvine walked through the throng of friends and sat beside Squall, whose eyelashes were beginning to flicker open. His breathing was that of a skipping record: unpredictable, shallow, and erratic, as if something had become lodged deep within his respiratory organs. Squall shifted slightly, then struggled to sit up, a look of sheer agony ripped across his features, darkening the scar etched in his forehead.

"Don't move, Squall," pleaded Irvine, catching the man's shoulders and pushing him down gently. "You're hurt more than you want to believe you are."

"I'm fine, dammit." Again, he struggled to a seated position, but was restrained by the faint glimmer of neon green, which quickly blossomed over his chest, displaying the metaphysical gash there. "Or maybe not..."

"Just take it easy for a sec while I think." His mind racing, Kinneas' eyes fell on Zell, who was talking, rapid-fire to Rinoa, who hung onto every word he said with anticipation. Dincht moved his arm, then, and Irvine realized how powerful the young man truly was. "Hey, Zell! Give me a hand over here!"

The blond looked up, and a wave of unadulterated chagrin crossed his features. He noticed the sharpshooter squatting next to his fallen teammate, and suddenly felt remorse for neglecting his duties.

"Everyone! We gotta get outta here before the Deling enforcers arrive!" Quickly, he made his way to the two men on the ground and hastily scooped Squall up, who cried out at the sudden ascension and its toll on his wound. Craning his neck, Zell scrutinized his charge's facial features, scanning for signs of life.

"I'm cold...Zell..."

"Here!" A very long, very comfortable tanned coat slid off broad shoulders and was tucked about his shivering frame, the lambskin lining providing perfect insulation against any kind of cold. Squall merely stared at Irvine running beside them, wearing his V-neck vest which revealed so much of his musculature. His long, reddish hair streamed out from behind his back, and the injured SeeD could smell faint traces of gunpowder which perfumed the fox-like tail, the insignificant cologne of the gun oil on the sides of that blue shirt, and the precise fingers, encased so harshly in those leather gloves.

"Irvine....," he breathed before he passed out in Zell's arms just as the party boarded the train heading for Balamb and refuge. Several minutes later, they arrived at their GARDEN, whose spherical perfection was brightly illuminated by the sparkling ring suspended above it. No one knew quite what that thing was, aside from a light source used during the night hours. It rotated gracefully, and gave off a silenced tinkling of noise which provided a sense of harmony within the military academy.

"I apologise, doctor," replied Quistis, approaching the medical officer, the shyest grin sparkled on her lips as she embraced her friend. "But you know how Mr. Leonhart gets...too proud to admit he needs help."

"Ain't that the truth!" She joked, disengaging herself from the embrace and tapped her fingers lightly on Squall's head, eliciting no blink reflex as the motion was employed to do. "This isn't good, everyone. Quisty, I need to know what hit him and where."

"It was one of Edea's flash-bang spells...a large chunk of glowing green rock that resembled ice pierced him through the chest."

"Was he conscious when you got to him?"

"Yes, but he soon quickly slipped into a vegetative state. I think he might be suffering from a bad case of magic poisoning, but I can't be sure."

"He is," replied Dr. Kadowaki, removing her stethoscope from Squall's chest. "Just a shock to the system, is all. He'll be fine." The middle-aged woman walked over to a nearby cupboard and withdrew a small bottle filled with a clear liquid and a syringe with a long needle. Filling the needle's chamber with the medicine, she tapped out the bubbles and squirted it briefly into the air before easing it into Squall's chest and pressing down on the plunger. There was a collective wince as the syringe was removed and disposed of.

"Eww....what was that?!" Shrieked Selphie, covering her eyes and turning several shades of green.

"Librium, so he won't go into cardiac arrest. Just to be sure though, I'm going to keep him under observation tonight. You all can go now, your fearless leader needs his beauty sleep," she monotoned, gently hustling the group through the infirmary's door before shutting and locking it behind them.

As the students made their way towards the dormitories, they began to splinter from the group. Quistis made her way to the faculty housing and retired for the night, yawning loudly as she vanished down their corridor. Selphie and Rinoa had been talking excitedly amongst themselves, and the conversation's flow was perfect until the girl in the yellow jumper squealed happily, grasped Heartilly by the arm, and tugged her down to the Quad in order to show her the stage for the GARDEN's festival. Zell and Irvine continued to amble around the rotunda, noticing only a few SeeDs lounging about in the commons area.

"Yo, Kinneas! You look hungry, and I'm starved, so let's get something to eat," said Zell, seeking to make contact with the introverted young man, upon whose shoulders a pall seemed to settle. His head hung in remorse, the two pieces of chestnut-brown hair blew in rhythm with the air conditioning, obscuring his exhausted features and depressed countenance.

"I'm not feeling very hungry now, Zell," replied Irvine, not breaking stride. "Kinda tired, actually. Is there a place I could stay for the night? My records haven't been transferred from Galbadia's GARDEN yet and...."

"Yah, I know. You can probably sleep in Squall's room; he's not in a position to put up much of a fight, anyway. His place is right next to mine...the code is 4-5-6-7-L."

"How do you know?"

"They asked me to help move his stuff for when we both became SeeDs and got new room assignments."

Irvine merely nodded in acceptance as he trudged alongside his teammate, his boots falling on the tiled floor with a loud resonance, his tanned arms attaining the pallor of a vampire underneath the bright, halogen lights of Balamb GARDEN. Zell made his way down the corridor leading to the dorms and pointed his companion in the direction before he turned around and sprinted towards the cafeteria, the aroma of the famous hot dogs on his stomach's mind.

The sharpshooter approached the aquamarine coloured door emblazoned with Squall's name and student ID number and stared at the keypad on the side of the portal. Punching in the alphanumeric codes, he waited patiently for the computer to accept the digits required to activate the pneumatic door opener. The piece of metal glided silently to the left, and Irvine stepped in, shutting and locking the door behind him.

The overhead lights within Squall's bedroom were dimmed, yet his eyes were able to pick out the single bed which was pushed against the wall, and the two uniforms worn by a SeeD and a GARDEN student hung above the mattress, their sleeves remaining motionless and respectful. Freshly pressed and starched. In spite of himself, the marksman chuckled at the sudden image of Squall in Donna Reed's clothing, ironing the embroidery on the SeeD outfit and swearing silently to himself when the iron failed to heat to the desired temperature.

The bed, depressing and neglected as it looked, appeared more than inviting to Kinneas, who had begun to quickly strip off his clothing, letting the vest and pants fall to heaps on the ground. His hat was removed and thrown frisbee-like to land atop the large "Griever" poster resting on its stand near Squall's desk. Sighing, he slipped his naked form into his team leader's bed and turned out the light before settling down into the pillow. Almost immediately, a perfumed scent escaped from the cushion, wafting gently up through the young man's nostrils. It was neither sharp nor blunt...yet it was there.

"Squall, you smell...good..," he murmured as he drifted off to sleep, his form bathed in the cologne left behind by his friend, imagining the lanky, pale arms surrounding him and pulling him close. "Don't let me go."

Approximately five hours later, the doorway to Squall's bedroom slid open, and Irvine Kinneas crept out into the darkened corridor. He could hear the faint sounds of the cafeteria's personnel washing the dishes and brewing the instant, flavourless coffee. The wide, open skylight let the gray haze of the fading night pour through, illuminating the marble floor with a phantasmal mist.

A pair of very steady boots made their way around the rotunda, proceeding toward the one installation within Balamb Garden that was left unlocked twenty-four hours a day: the training center. A shining rifle, the Valiant, firmly in tow, clinked as its owner maneuvered down the long hallway and slid his key card through the double doors.

"Student ID: 83728GG; Kinneas, Irvine. Designation: Galbadia GARDEN. Welcome, Irvine, to Balamb GARDEN's training center! Please exhibit caution, as monsters are likely to attack without warning," chirped the computer's automated voice. The double doors swung open, and Irvine stepped into the dark, icy corridor which lead directly to a veritable nest of T-Rexaurs and Grats.

With a flick of his wrists, he pumped another round of pulse ammunition into the Valiant before confidently striding forth into the forested chamber to await his first challenge. The large fans overhead were the only noise present in the room, their powerful blades causing the bright lights to take on a stroboscopic effect.

"Hey! Come out and play, kiddies!" Irvine called, his eyes scanning the monotonous canopy for a challenge worthy of his firearm....and his anger.

As if to respond to the cry of the young Galbadian, two Grats manifested out of the apparent silence and surrounded him, their yellow tentacles wafting in the breeze. Their skin was covered by a thin, clear ooze, some of which fell from their "mouths" and landed on the lush ground, burning it away.

"Not good," he thought, dodging the first's gas attack which burned a hole through his coat's tail. Irvine whirled around and squeezed Valiant's trigger, firing both barrels off at once. Two minute bullet holes appeared in the Grat's torso (if that is what it can be called, this being a nasty blob of a creature), and greenish blood poured out. The canary-coloured tentacles wavered in the air before falling around the fallen monster, as a lotus opens its petals.

Just as Irvine was about to fire two more shells into the second Grat, a tendril hit him from behind, sending him flying into a nearby tree, the Valiant sliding under a nearby bush. Reaching his gloved hand to his head, he pulled his fingers away and stared at the thick sanguine fluid which coated them. The blood began to slowly invade his cornea, tincturing the unblemished white a sickly pinkish colour and distorted his vision with a vengeful crimson.

The bulbous monstrosity stumbled forth, its many appendages winding around the helpless marksman's limbs, pulling his struggling form towards its gaping mouth from which massive globs of digestive juices dribbled. He screamed then, loudly. Its futility reverberated around the training center's walls with intense urgency.

All of a sudden, the Grat's tentacles loosed their grip and Kinneas fell to the hard earth below with a loud thump. Its rotund body wavered helplessly as a pair of adamantine-plated knuckles beat into its slippery flesh.

"Booya!" Cried Zell, the last of his timed punches made contact with the back of the creature's head, killing it. "Yo, Kinneas! You all right?"

The longhaired man rose to his feet and brushed off his coat. The edges of the orifice in the tail were tinged with a violent black, the acid continued to slowly eat away at the coat until Zell ripped it off the taller man's shoulders and cast it into the grass. Both boys watched in amazement as the beige article of clothing was fully consumed by the Grat's emission.

"Thanks, Zell," Irvine gratefully panted. "I owe you one." He walked over to the shrubbery, knelt down, and retrieved his gun. "And thanks."

"Hey, no need to thank me," replied the plucky blond, striding up to his friend and casting his arm about the other man's shoulders. "But let me buy you breakfast....it's the least I can do and besides, you look really hungry."

".......Okay."

"Great, man!" He guided the sharpshooter towards the exit of the training center before pressing the button to seal the doors behind them. The two made their way towards the cafeteria in relative silence, the occasional student staring at Zell's intricate tattoo with wonder, amazement, and jealousy, for the design was the product of a skilled and talented hand.

He dreamt of the previous night's encounter, and how everything managed to go haywire, in spite of Caraway's meticulous planning; every possible variable was accounted for, yet the final equation could not be solved. Squall felt Irvine then; he saw the young gunman take aim through the scope, his own trigger finger itching to apply the seven pounds necessary to send a bullet through Edea's skull.

The projectile was ejected at high velocity through the barrel of the sniper rifle, and Leonhart could see it, a streak of golden light, seconds away from piercing the sorceress' cranium. Then, "ping", it bounced off. Deflected. A blaze of azure flame caused it to fall to the float's floor and roll underneath her dainty shoe, where it was crushed into lead powder and divested of all its potency.

It was then that Squall truly felt Irvine; the young man's fleeting confidence was completely shattered and replaced with heartbreak. An ominous sense of foreboding permeated his very soul, forcing him to shed dry tears at disappointing the other young man.

The young man in black.

The young man that was him.

Squall.

His shirtless form shifted upon the mattress within the sick bay, the aged bedsprings creaking ever-so-slightly to support his lean frame. The gauzy blanket provided little warmth from the crisp air the blew in through the window, and Squall's body shook profusely in response.

At the sound of chattering teeth, Dr. Kadowaki stepped into the small bedroom and looked at Squall before feeling his forehead with her hand. The area surrounding the scar seemed hotter, while the remainder of his face was cool; almost clammy to the touch. She shuffled over to the closet and opened it, searching for an extra blanket to wrap the SeeD in, to cover the wound she had so carefully bandaged the previous night. All the good doctor was able to uncover were a faded blue sweater and a box of mothballs.

Out of the corner of her eye, Dr. Kadowaki noticed a long piece of tan fabric folded over a chair. It looked thick and durable, yet the inside appeared to be lined with an ample layer of sheepskin. Snatching it, the middle-aged woman smoothed it, afgan-style, over Squall's torso before closing the window and leaving the small room.

Moments later, his sleeping body shifted under the new weight of Irvine's trench coat, absorbing the warmth it provided. His heavy breathing took in the fragrant aroma of gunpowder and oil, gently causing his blue-grey eyes to flicker open. Squall groaned slightly at the katana of pain which was thrust so brutally through his chest, grinding his teeth to prevent the medic from attending to him.

"Fuck! It really hurts!!" He thought, reaching up to find what he believed to be a chasm carved deeply into the lean musculature. The burning waves of pain continued to plague his sternum and parboil his heart, bringing a long, drawn out cry of unadulterated agony. Suddenly, metallic feet on a nearby chair screeched against the tiles of the floor, and a pair of rubber-soled shoes padded towards his bed. Dr. Kadowaki peered over him with concern for she knew that the sorceress' attack was more potent then Quistis or herself had initially thought.

"Squall, are you all right?" She asked, perching herself atop an adjacent stool. In response, his hands clasped his torso protectively, and he emitted a defeated squeak. The doctor snapped on a pair of examining gloves, and reached towards the trembling soldier. "You've got to let me examine you, Mr. Leonhart! I need to see if there is severe damage to your body! Now lie down!" the medic commanded, pushing his lean shoulders back down into the mattress.

Reluctantly, Squall parted his arms and permitted the middle-aged woman to lift up his formfitting T-shirt, presenting his lightly-muscled chest to her experienced eyes. She clicked her tongue in dismay when she saw that the pronounced scar had, instead of fading, became a darker pink, the sign of infection. The young SeeD drew in a tight breath through his clenched teeth as she traced its length with her forefinger, inspecting it for any lacerations. "Squall, I want you grasp hold of something and squeeze it tightly, okay?"

"What? Why?" He asked, his milky-blue eyes flashing in the sunlight.

"Because it might hurt a bit when I clean this." Leaning over the seventeen-year-old, she pulled a tray closer to the bed and picked up a tube of cream and a piece of gauze. "Somehow, it got infected, but it can be healed." Dr. Kadowaki squeezed a good amount of the cream onto the pad, then began to swab it over Squall's torso. The soldier grimaced in pain, but refused to call out when she coated the most sensitive spot, the one above his heart, with the solution.

"Can I go now?"

"Yes, I'm through. The scar will vanish in time, but until then, don't do anything that might agitate it." Squall nodded in response before the medic left, pulling the curtains behind her. He eased out of his bed, yet the pain of having a wound coupled with the stinging antibiotic made him swear under his breath. His face flushed as he struggled to inhale what little air he could force into his lungs which burned as if they were being slow-roasted.

A few moments passed before Squall was able to collect his bearings and pull on his boots. Quickly scanning the room for his bomber jacket, he was surprised to see that it was missing. He strode across the cubicle and opened the closet to reveal a moth-eaten sweater and several green plastic hangers.

"Dr. Kadowaki? Have you seen my jacket?" He called out, still searching for the only article of clothing in which he felt comfortable. The GARDEN uniform was made of wool and extremely scratchy, and he felt ostentatious and chagrined whenever he wore that SeeD uniform all the other students were so keen on obtaining.

"I think Selphie and Rinoa took it to have it mended, but that nice Kinneas boy left his trench coat, so you can wear that on your way out."

Squall glanced at the bed, then, and regarded the coat as if it weren't an article of clothing, but a dead animal. He shivered again, the tremors of the chill passing up through his spine, coating every inch of his skin with pin pricks. The young soldier picked up the long coat and slid it easily over his shoulders, noticing how the sheepskin lining instantly warmed him up.

The curtain flew open and he strode out, not bothering to thank the medic who was busy with her computer and several important-looking manila folders. Halfway down the corridor, he became aware of that scent..of the other boy. Only this time, it was different. Squall pressed his nose to the collar and inhaled quickly, so as not to draw stares from the underclassmen.

"Cologne?" He questioned, taking another whiff of the vapor which seemed to be scattered throughout the material. The perfume was sharp, yet seemed to convey a sense of weakness as well...a vulnerability perhaps that was an anomaly amongst the other scents of gun oil and powder. "Irvine....," he whispered, oblivious to the fact that his face had become slightly flushed as his body unconsciously wrapped the material tightly around him, as if to bathe in the cologne unique to the marksman. "You're always so warm...."

Squall continued to walk out of the corridor and make his way towards the cafeteria, which was still fairly empty at the hour. A few professors passed him and waved, but he didn't return the compliment. Images of Irvine in various poses: his gun shaking between his knees, his beige overcoat blowing in the wind like a great cape, the great tail of auburn hair which mimicked the movements of the coat's hem line. Despite his best efforts, Squall couldn't keep his sex from becoming hard at the thought of the sharpshooter, nor did he care. He had Irvine's scent around him, and what the hell did anything else matter?

"Yah, me too!" Exclaimed the spiky-haired blond, patting him on the back. "It's too damn filling!"

"All those hot dogs....too delicious."

"Agreed. No more food for us!"

"Never again....I think I need to sit down."

The would-be assassin's face was shaded from the ample sunlight which streamed in from above, his chestnut-brown irises darkened as if they were dipped into a very rich chocolate. He walked with his hands stuck in his deep pockets, head slightly bowed as if pondering something extremely important, whereas Zell walked arms akimbo, head held high, his eyes playing over the GARDEN's architectural magnificence.

"I wonder why Zell's being so nice to me lately? I mean, I'm not exactly the friendly type, but I'm far from being Squall," thought Irvine, his necklace unexpectedly tickling his throat. Raising his head up, he stopped walking and looked at the stronger boy with a piercing, yet amicable gaze, triumphant as if to say "I found out your secret!"

"Huh? Something wrong, Kinneas?" Asked Zell, scratching his head.

"No, I was just wondering why you're being so kind towards me, is all," replied the marksman.

"I'm just trying to make you feel comfortable, ever since you've left the Galbadia GARDEN and everything else you knew."

"I know....but....I...I shot Squall."

"What?!"

"It was my error that made the bullet miss its target. If I wasn't so afraid, Edea wouldn't have...wouldn't have...," he murmured, unable to finish his sentence.

"Hey, man, it's cool," coaxed Zell, clapping him on the shoulder. "It wasn't your fault. Even if she hadn't checkmated your shot, Squall still would have gone in to make sure the bitch was killed...and he did have a score to settle with Seifer."

"But he's still hurt."

"Who? Squall? No way! If anything, he's shined it on and is probably on his way to his room or the library."

Right on cue, a tall, leather clad boy walked right into Irvine, stopping the both of them. Squall looked up suddenly at the person in his way, then flushed a very dark crimson, embarrassment and something else written all over his features.

"Oh...umm...Irvine...hi," he stuttered, pulling of the trench coat and throwing it into the Galbadian's arms before turning around and sprinting off towards the dorms. "Gotta go!" Two pairs of eyes followed their leader's head until it vanished down the rotunda's path.

"What was that all about?" Questioned Zell, still staring in the direction his comrade had vanished. "He was in a hurry."

"Yeah...a real hurry," responded Irvine, his fingers coming into contact with a very warm, slick substance on the inner lining of his coat. "What's this?" He asked himself, rubbing a trace amount of the fluid onto his fingers before smearing it around. "No way...he didn't...did he?" The young soldier's honed senses confirmed what he thought to be true. Suddenly, his face too, took on a deep scarlet colour of chagrin as he quickly formulated an excuse to follow the SeeD. "Zell, I, uh....still have some work to do for my gunsmith class. I really gotta skate, so I'll see you later, okay?"

"But there are no classes today, let's have some more fun!" The blond protested.

"It's a really big report that I have to give tomorrow!" Dashing off towards the dorms, he vanished into the throng of students who had begun to wake up and stroll the corridors of Balamb GARDEN.

"Weird," thought Dincht, making his way to the quad to see how Selphie's GARDEN festival float was faring.

"Come back, Squall! I only wanna talk to you," Irvine called back, quickening his pace in order to catch up to the slower, injured SeeD. The chase continued up a flight of stairs and through a labyrinthine array of hallways and intersections before the marksman was able to reach outwards and ensnare the near-hysterical Squall, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Relax, Leonhart. I'm not going to hurt you."

"After what I did?! Are you kidding me?!" He buried his face in his hands and sobbed softly, feeling his body fall into Irvine's outstretched arms.

"It's not your fault, but do you mind if we talk this over somewhere more private? We're drawing attention." Indeed, he was correct, for a few giggly female underclassmen walked by and flashed them a look that was a mixture of pity, contempt, and confusion. "Can we go to your place? I mean, I don't have my own as of yet."

"Yeah, follow me." His reply sounded distant, yet his voice wavered slightly as the tears continued to fall from his eyelids. In a few moments, the shaken duo were standing in front of Squall's room, staring mindlessly at the door as if it were a portal to an undiscovered realm. The noir-clad young man began punching in the access code, but his hand shook too much and instead of imputing "4-5-6-7-L", it dialed in something else entirely. "Shit," he remarked, biting his lower lip.

"Allow me," said Irvine, who reached over and pressed the correct configuration of buttons. The door silently slid open, then closed behind the two boys upon their entrance. Squall took a few nervous paces forward, then slumped down on the unmade bed, exhausted and red-eyed from his crying. The marksman walked towards the desk and wheeled the chair around to face the young soldier before sitting in it and looking at him pensively. A long, undefined period of silence ensued, marked by the ticking of an annoying, standard-issue clock mounted upon the sheet-rock wall.

"Irvine? I'm really sorry...for uh...."

"...There's no need, Squall. It's I who should be apologising."

"But why? You didn't come on someone else's clothing."

"I almost did," thought Kinneas, a sly smile spreading across his face as he recalled the night in which he slept in Leonhart's own bed, wrapped up in his scent and warmth like a child. "I did get you seriously injured, and had it not been for my nerves, you wouldn't have..."

"That wasn't your fault, Kinneas. Your aim was bang-on, and who could expect Edea to deflect a bullet coming at her from a concealed sniping position?" Questioned Squall, his face clearing somewhat from the rash his tears had left.

"You almost died, Squall....," whispered Irvine, the salty liquid now filling up his eyes and splashing down his cheeks. "Had it not been for my stupid-assed mistake, you..."

His sentence was cut off when the leather-clad boy approached him, took his face in his hands, and planted a very long, very wet, and very passionate kiss upon his lips. The taller soldier's initial reaction was to recoil, to push Squall away, down upon the bed, turn about on one heel and storm out of the room.

"What are you doing?" He asked himself, feeling his hands clasping around Leonhart's slender waist, pulling him close and down into his own lap, satisfied at the boy's instantaneous compliance. Irvine's own digits soon found their way up Squall's back and into his thick, reddish-brown hair, ensnaring it around his fingers in an undeniable demand for more.

Gasping, it was a mutual break before a glazed stare was exchanged between the two. Both of their faces had flushed considerably, and their pupils seemed to dilate with pleasure. Intertwining his hands with Irvine's, Squall gently led him towards the bed and pushed him downwards into the soft mattress.

"Squall..," he breathed. "I never thought....you..."

"Likewise," came the reply, chest heaving. "I didn't know for sure until today, when I wrapped myself up in your sexy smell."

"Wha?!"

"You heard me, Kinneas. Your scent turns me on....I need a man who smells of gunpowder!"

"And here I thought I was the only one!"

"What do you mean?"

"I...I sorta camped out here last night, since my stuff from Galbadia GARDEN hasn't arrived yet. I felt your presence, Squall....and it was the warmest thing that had ever touched me in my entire life. I need you...," he choked. "To provide me with that sort of warmth, which only you can give me."

Flipping him over, Irvine rested atop the young soldier's lean form and hugged him tightly. His lips quickly found the nape of Squall's neck, and began to lap at it slowly, affectionately, as a puppy would do to its master while his hands roamed the understated musculature of his lover's upper body.

The SeeD felt his faculties fade as if they were drowning in a potent drink of happiness and pleasure; a molotov cocktail of sheer emotion enveloped his form when he wrapped his legs around Irvine's. His fingernails scratched at his friend's azure vest, seeking to rend it to ribbons, that is, until he was stopped by a pleading noise from the sharpshooter who had momentarily ceased his affections.

"Umm...I don't have that much clothing left. Today, a Grat in the training center ate my spare trench coat when he puked acid on it."

"Okay...I won't tear your outer garments off...but that's not going to stop me from undressing you...right now!" Seizing the vest's zipper, Squall yanked down and watched as the fabric split apart like the peel of a banana. Quickly, he slid the open vest over Irvine's shoulders, and gazed up at the sight presented to him.

The marksman was amply built, his chest smooth and flat, and his abdomen firmly packed. But the thing that drew the majority of Squall's attention were Irvine's forearms, which were endowed with sheer power; a strength built from years of resisting the recoil factor of several different guns. It was these forearms that proceeded to slowly unwrap the T-shirt from Squall's lean frame, exposing his pale torso and the fading scar. "So, when's it my turn to play?" He asked innocently, flipping the pair again and straddling the taller boy, pinning his arms above his head.

Bending down, Squall's hot mouth quickly encountered the Galbadian's left nipple, running his tongue over the taut bud of flesh. The marksman moaned in pleasure and ground his hips imploringly into his lover's, pleading for what he wanted most.

"Not yet, my love," breathed the SeeD, lapping gently. "Not until you've been properly....stimulated."

"You're....you're heartless, Leonhart!" He protested, gasping anew when Squall's lips surrounded his right nipple and suckled it softly. "Ah! Bastard!" A slender hand slipped atop Irvine's belt buckle and slowly unfastened it, drawing the strip of leather out from the belt loops. The same set of fingertips skirted around the button and fly, as if to arouse them if such a thing were possible.

"I won't go any further unless I have your permission, Irvine," his voice was gentle, yet coaxing and determined. It was clear what was to happen regardless of the marksman's response.

"You can do whatever you want, Squall, provided that I get to do it to you first!" At that, Kinneas' fingers slid underneath the skintight leather, playfully. snapping the elastic of Squall's boxers. "I meant to ask you a question about those, anyway," he remarked, drawing off all three belts, then unfastening the button and zipper before drawing the material off completely.

The Balamb soldier faced his Galbadian counterpart in nothing more than his undergarment and a sly grin plastered on his face. "What question would that be?" He asked, watching in amusement as his lover's eyes perused the bared flesh.

"Boxers, briefs.....or neither!" Irvine exclaimed, pulling his friend atop him with one hand and removing his remaining garment with the other. Squall gasped in delight as the marksman's hands commenced to glide along his exposed skin, exploring it as a blind man would: patting it softly before massaging it, gaining a definite mental image of the contours.

"Same to you, gunsmith!" Bending down, he freed himself from his friend's grip and traveled lower along the well-muscled body, trailing a line of kisses and licks before arriving at the remaining items of clothing Irvine was wearing. With a devilish grin, Squall secured the button in his teeth and used his tongue to slide it through the hole. A shiver passed through Kinneas' inert form as his lover's expert tongue licked over the sensitive ridge of flesh mere inches above crotch-level. "I see you don't wear much underneath these pants; all for the better."

The young SeeD returned to the task of undressing his new lover by affixing his teeth to the small zipper and moving it downwards along its tracks. The tanned material parted like the draperies upon a window, revealing a sight he longed to see.

"Squall....," he moaned, his hands drawing the sheets into balls when Squall caught his organ in his hot mouth, while at the same time, removed the pants from his legs. The younger boy's expert tongue slowly twirled about the head, hardening the rest of the shaft within. He had no previous experience, nor the know-how necessary for such encounters, yet his passions expertly guided his movements.

Inevitably, Irvine began to rock deeply into Squall's wet furnace of a mouth, seeking more of the pleasure he was already sustaining. His lover's innocent lapping quickly took on a ravenous nature to accommodate the uncontrollable, penetrating thrusts of the sharpshooter's body; his arms wound themselves around Irvine's lower back, pulling him closer. Kinneas released a stifled cry before feeling the accumulating pleasure build up and releasing in an ample torrent of warm, impassioned fluid, all of which Squall swallowed greedily.

Disengaging himself from his lover's body, Squall climbed back up the chiseled torso and rested his head upon the sharpshooter's accommodating shoulder which rose and fell with the panting emitted by the taller boy. The trace amounts of sweat upon Irvine's broad chest glistened in the early morning's sunlight, which cast luminous streaks through the drawn blinds onto his honey-tanned skin. The duo lay there for a moment, clutching tightly to one another, their lips locked in the most serene of kisses.

"Irvine," he began nervously, searching for the words. "You're....." His ode was met with a quick peck on his lips before the stronger soldier rose from the bed, his back turned towards his lover's. Slowly, the muscled back receded into the shadows, and Squall became aware of a rustling from within a drawer, his eyes focusing on the brick-sized box Irvine produced and opened.

Inside, neatly arranged, were ten rounds of shining bullets: silver tips encased within bronzed shells which sparkled brightly. Selecting one, Irvine returned the box to its place and wheeled about to face Squall, who was perplexed to see the small projectile within his friend's hands in such a situation.

"Is that what I think it is?" He asked nervously, the hackles raising on the back of his neck.

"Bingo!" Came the reply as the marksman gripped the base of the casing and yanked the primer out, causing a small pile of electric-green powder to spill out into his cupped palm. Casting away the useless ammunition, the Galbadian lightly dusted himself with the substance before sinking onto the bed once again. "If you thought my coat smelled nice with the gunpowder traces, wait until you inhale me when I've used pulse ammunition!" Irvine ran his palms up his lover's chest, eliciting a shudder prior to pushing him down onto the bed and settling his larger form onto that of Squall's.

"Ah!!" The long, thin scar sent forth another rolling wave of agony, which enveloped the SeeD's body, singeing every nerve.

"Nasty cut you got there. Perhaps I can make the pain go away?" Craning his neck upwards, the gunsmith planted his lips upon his lover's and pushed the tip of his tongue into Squall's open mouth, delighting in the response he elicited, for the soldier's own tongue coiled about his like that of a snake's body. The two appendages lapped at each other hungrily, slowly probing the expansive wetness. Abruptly, Irvine broke the passionate kiss and, taking one of the SeeD's hands in his own, he marveled at its lean, fragile nature. "You play piano, don't you Squall?" He asked, smiling a radiant smile.

Squall nodded in response, letting the bewilderment enter his features. "Why do you ask?"

"Ever hear of the ' Apassionata'?"

"Of course, who hasn't?"

"My variation is a little different." Drawing the Balamb soldier's digits close to his face, he brushed the middle finger against his lips before taking it into his mouth, caressing it slowly and rhythmically.

Squall gasped at the new sensation which had just manifested within his mind; the licking greatly reminded him of the actions he had just performed on Irvine, only more intense. It was as if his digit was suddenly transformed into a phallus capable of sustaining infinite pleasures; the finger which longed for orgasm yet could not achieve the liquid bliss that the other organ could. The SeeD resisted forcing his finger in deeper, not wanting to turn his lover's delicious ministrations into an unpleasant gag experience.

"Irvine Kinneas....you...fucking tease!" He cried, ramming his hips against his friend's torso.

"So, I have your permission?" Irvine taunted, removing the finger from his mouth. "Or do I have to continue until you give in?"

"Do it!" Squall could feel his cock growing harder by the moment, and if this marksman even thought he could smooth-talk his way out of this one, he had another thing coming. Acknowledging his lover's consent, the cowboy removed his hat and reached behind his head to snap the rubber band which held his long, auburn locks in check. Both of his hands flew up to the back of his head and flipped out his tresses, allowing them to fall across his shoulders and upper chest.

Massaging Squall's sides as his face drew lower, Irvine looked up and gave a wicked grin before settling down to his target. The SeeD's erection was painfully throbbing against the skin of his stomach; its skin was stretched so that every nerve within could be caressed easily by his friend's slick tongue and accommodating mouth.

Irvine began tormenting Squall, brushing his lips across the engorged head, at times taking the entirety of it in his mouth, then releasing it. His tongue quickly found the base of his lover's penis, and licked at the taut flesh, drawing straight up to the sensitive ridge of skin underneath the head before slowly sinking down upon the member.

The Balamb GARDEN student moaned in ecstasy and delirium, hips rising and falling to seek more of the warm depths afforded him while his fingers tangled themselves in Irvine's long, silken tresses. The pliant tendrils cascaded down the boy's thighs, endlessly stroking the soft, virginal flesh there as the sharpshooter continued his ministrations.

The gunsmith's nut-brown eyes were riveted at ensuring no drop of the nectar would escape his lips, for Squall's emission was by far, the sweetest liquid he had ever sampled. Irvine savored its smooth texture as he swallowed the viscous fluid, going slowly to abate his lusty urges to consume it all in one gulp.

Disentangling himself, he maneuvered his own body next to Squall's and wound his arms around the lean stomach, contentedly exploring the musculature. The semiconscious SeeD automatically rested his head on Irvine's shoulder and sighed, curling himself into the older boy's warmth.

"You sleepy, my Squall?" He asked, nibbling on his lover's earlobe.

"Just a little," came the response, followed immediately by a loud yawn. His eyelids drooped, and his steely blue irises faded as he closed his eyes, accepting a final kiss from the Galbadian. "But I'm content to stay in your arms, Irvine, and fall asleep knowing your scent is protecting me."

"You're going to turn into an addict, you know?" The marksman teased, pulling his friend closer and inhaling the sweet aroma of shampoo from the younger boy's tresses. Pressing his lips to his lover's cheek, he felt himself being drawn into the same sweet rest as Squall. Irvine reached down and pulled the sheet over both their forms, delighting in the gentle, loving warmth the young SeeD gave off.