Kingdom Hearts Fan Fiction ❯ The Transience of Memory ❯ In the Dark of Night ( Chapter 14 )

Author's notes: Typical disclaimer I own nothing of Kingdom Hearts.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 13:

 

 

 

“What are you gonna tell Seifer?” Xavier asked as they approached the gang leader's apartment.

 

Hayner went stock still, the clenching in his chest suddenly overriding everything. He hadn't thought any more deeply than his desperate need to erase the feel of violation from his skin and his mind, to calm the twitching adrenaline that was keeping him shaking. He hadn't thought past getting where he'd feel safe.

 

What would Seifer say? What would he do? A wave of dizziness flushed through Hayner, making him lean on Xavier for support.

 

Would Seifer be mad at him?

 

How much of this had he brought onto himself? he wondered sickly. He had decided to go to that party, yes. He even fumbled himself into the situation with Bo. However, he hadn't done anything personally to warrant those thugs coming after him. Wasn't that just because of his association with Seifer?

 

He palmed the ring in a tight fist.

 

“You ok?” Xavier asked.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Xavier put a steadying hand under Hayner's elbow as they went up the steps. “Wonder if he's home?” the blue-eyed boy wondered aloud. No lights seemed to be on in the apartment. “Or maybe he's asleep?” He raised his hand and started to knock.

 

“No, wait. I have a key.” Hayner fished it out of his pocket and fumbled it into the lock. It stuck a little as he turned the key, but he jiggled it a bit and the deadbolt finally conceded. He retracted the key, and turned the knob, pushing the door open into darkness.

 

“Can I help you?” drawled a low voice from deep within the room. Seifer.

 

“It's me,” Hayner said as he walked forward. It wasn't completely dark. As his eyes adjusted, he could see the dim glow of the T.V., which wouldn't have been visible to them from outside, he realized, due to the tin foiled windows. How long ago had that been now, the day that started everything? Somehow, it felt like years.

 

Seifer was watching them from the couch, his elbow resting on the couch arm and his head propped up on his hand. There was mock annoyance on his face, his lips curved up in the beginnings of a smile.

 

Hayner met his eyes through the shadows and felt his throat constrict. How would this ever be easy between them?

 

The ring felt heavy in his hand.

 

Some naïve part of him had believed that it would all work out somehow. But, it had been made painfully clear to him tonight that getting caught up in gang rivalry was just as bad as he'd thought it would be. And he realized, for the first time - Seifer couldn't keep him safe. He couldn't account for everyone and everything. It just wasn't possible. God. How was he supposed to tell him what happened?

 

Xavier hung back just inside the doorway, not sure if he should go yet or stay.

 

“I thought you'd be at Roxas' tonight,” Seifer said, the hint of a question in his tone.

 

Hayner nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Seifer was like a beacon of light and life, the opposite of everything he'd been through tonight, and he craved the warmth of his eyes and arms. Somehow those things seemed so far from his grasp. He was drowning in dark waters, reaching in vain for the surface, the weight crushing the air from his lungs.

 

Would he be able to stop now? Could he give Seifer up, if he knew tonight's events were bound to repeat?

 

“…and you come with Xavier in tow,” Seifer continued. His expression became guarded at Hayner's silence.

 

“I came to give this back,” Hayner mumbled, as he took the final steps toward the couch. The ache in his chest was trying to tell him he shouldn't be here.

 

Hayner held his clenched right hand out to Seifer, looking anywhere but in his eyes. He waited, and watched Seifer's left hand rise up under his. When their skin touched his hand opened, releasing his burden with the soft clink of metal.

 

Seifer stared at his hand when Hayner's hand slid away. Nestled in his palm were the key to his apartment and the silver ring he'd given to Hayner.

 

Seifer took in infinite meaningless details before he could react: like the way the key lay speared through the unbroken circle of the band, the way the waves looked black in the dim light, how the metal of the key was dull and tired but bit like a knife when he clenched his fist.

 

“So that's how it is?” he asked, giving the blonde an opportunity to deny it. It was with monumental effort that he kept his voice calm. Hayner finally met his eyes, but he didn't like what he saw there. It was over?

 

Seifer stood slowly. He tried to contain the surging anger snapping through his body, searching for an outlet.

 

He moved past the blonde, refusing to look at him, his gaze locking onto Xavier who was still loitering in the doorway. The darker haired boy was shifting from foot to foot. He looked uncomfortable… guilty... Is it your fault? Seifer felt rage seeping past his control, as he closed the distance between them. He slammed Xavier into the wall, and found himself wrapping his fingers around the other boy's throat. “I think you better start explaining,” he said with deadly calm, “because I don't like the way this looks.”

 

Xavier grimaced and looked at Hayner. He really didn't want to be the one to explain, especially not when Seifer looked like he was about to snap.

 

“…er! Seifer, stop it!” Hayner was holding his arm back. He hadn't realized he'd raised it. “Seifer! Listen to me, goddammit!”

 

Seifer turned, letting Hayner see hatred in his eyes. “What is he to you?” he bit out harshly. He had to know the truth before he could let Xavier go. If he really had stolen the blonde from him, by God he'd get at least one swing in no matter how much Hayner disapproved.

 

Hayner looked confused and a little scared. “W-What's that got to do with anything?”

 

Hayner! Xavier cried internally. What the hell kinda answer is that?! Seifer's murderous glare had swung back to him intensified. His fingers twitched about Xavier's throat, tightening. Hayner seemed to be having trouble holding back his other arm.

 

“I just- helped him out of- a little trouble,” Xavier volunteered haltingly, struggling to get the words out around the pressure of the gang leader's grip. He decided to risk it since Hayner's ambiguous reply was not helping him get any further from Seifer's fist. “I could do- without the lover's spat,” he added, hoping he'd guessed right when he thought Seifer seemed jealous.

 

Seifer took a long look at Xavier, analyzing him against years of knowing him. He was a tramp, with more conquests under his belt than one would think was even possible. His reputation for being able to seduce boys and girls alike- regardless of their usual preferences, was near legendary. His dark blue eyes held tension, and a tiredness that didn't match the situation. Seifer narrowed his eyes, remembering that Xavier was usually loyal to a fault. He looked uncomfortable, yes, but he didn't seem to be lying.

 

“Why did you give the ring back?” Seifer asked Hayner. The question hovered dangerously in the air.

 

Hayner tried to answer, but found that the memory of his assault was too fresh in his mind. He shuddered. He could still feel the snap of his chain breaking, the way it cut into his flesh before giving way.

 

Seifer grit his teeth. He couldn't bear seeing Hayner look like that, with such a tired and broken look on his face, even if things were finished between them… “Does it have anything to do with Xavier?” he asked.

 

Hayner shook his head.

 

“Fine,” he said finally, and released Xavier. “Get out,” he ordered the blue-eyed boy. Xavier let himself out in a hurry, closing the door swiftly behind him.

 

 

Seifer stood where he was, his back to Hayner, clenching and unclenching his hands. “What did you mean by giving the ring back to me?” he asked quietly.

 

Hayner sank to the floor and pulled his knees to his chest. “The chain's broken,” he said sullenly, looking down. “ I - I can't wear it anymore.”

 

“Is that all?” Seifer rounded on him, not believing it. “You weren't trying to break things off?” Seifer tried to quash the spark of hope the thought gave him. He already felt like the ground had fallen out from under him, he wasn't going to set himself up again so easily.

 

Hayner sighed shakily, putting his hands over his face. “I don't think I could,” he mumbled. “Even if it's gonna get me killed eventually.” He'd thought about it though, wondered if it might not be for the best, but the moment the ring left his hand, he'd wanted it back.

 

Seifer's vision began to clear as relief and anxiety twisted within him. Something about Hayner's choice of words… He was startled to notice the bruises forming on Hayner's neck and the abrasions on his arms. He knelt down next to the blonde. How could he have been so blind?

 

Seifer gently pulled Hayner's hands from his face with minor resistance. His expression, as he looked away, was heart breaking. “Hayner, who did this to you?”

 

Concern and anger were swirling like oil and water in Seifer's chest, one overwhelming the other at any given moment.

 

Hayner's hands were shaking in his. “I don't know.”

 

Seifer wanted to comfort him, but he couldn't. Not with these conflicting emotions lacing through him and uncertainty poisoning him. Just how bad was it? Seifer released his hands and grabbed Hayner's shirt, pulling it up.

 

He didn't move for a moment, taking in the damaged skin. His hands fisted in the cloth and he wrenched the shirt up, pulling it more carefully off of Hayner's head and arms, so he could inspect the full extent of it.

 

The unmistakable scrape of nails traced angry crimson paths, both short and winding, across his flesh. Dull red flaked from the ones that went deep. A few disappeared from sight beneath the waistband of his pants. Bruises blossomed plentifully upon Hayner's torso in burgundy and blues. His chest rose and fell in short shallow breaths. His nipples and lips were but more abused flesh, swollen and bruised more darkly. His eyes were wide and scared.

 

Seifer's hand hovered uselessly over the battered skin. It was so unreal he almost had to touch it to believe. Only Hayner flinching away stopped him. His heart was slamming in his chest, flooding him with sick energy. He could feel the haze of fury lowering its red veil over his eyes.

 

“You don't know who did this?!” It was obvious where the attacker meant to take this - if they hadn't already done so. “Was it Bo?” He snarled, making the other boy flinch.

 

“No, it was…” Hayner's chest heaved. He hugged his legs close, despite the obvious pain it caused him. He looked like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. “It was a guy from some gang,” he said faintly. “I'd never seen him before. But they seemed to be enemies of yours. I guess I'm lucky he was the only one who caught up to me.”

 

Seifer felt sick. It's my fault? That Hayner…

 

Hayner's hands clenched. “He saved me. Xavier, I mean. Before the guy could…” he trailed off.

 

Seifer was pretty sure he hated himself right now. Hayner had gone through that for him, and still sought him out afterwards, and this was how he repaid him? All his anger and jealousy seemed so selfish now, just another ordeal Hayner had been made to suffer. “Tell me what happened.”

 

Hayner swallowed. “I was at a party with Roxas,” he said emptily. “Xavier was there too, and so were those guys you beat the shit out of for threatening me. When they recognized me, they came after me…”

 

“God, Hayner…” How could he sit hear and listen to Hayner speak like it had happened to someone else?

 

“The one that got me mentioned you,” Hayner continued in that nearly monotone voice. “Said he wanted to see if I was worth almost killing people over. And he snapped the chain. He said he knew the ring was yours, that it was your warning to them or something, but he couldn't have cared less.”

 

Anguish. Listening to this was pure anguish. He'd tried to protect Hayner, and had only gotten him hurt. It was all his fault.

 

“In a way, it's probably all my fault,” Hayner said then.

 

Seifer was wrenched from his thoughts. “What?”

 

“I was just trying to cheer Roxas up, but it was my choice to go to that party. It was Bo's.” He paused while Seifer tried to take that in.

 

“Ok, that doesn't make me very happy, but I still don't see how - “

 

“You were right about him, you know.”

 

“Huh?” Seifer said with confusion. Hayner was switching tracks, losing him in the illogical flow of his thoughts.

 

“I lost Roxas, and Bo found me. He was convinced I was single and wanted his tongue down my throat. I punched him for it, and that's what got the gang after me.”

 

“That still doesn't make it your fault - ”

 

Hayner laughed a little. It was a horrible sound. “And I never told anyone about us,” his voice was filled with wonder and condemnation. “Isn't that funny??”

 

Seifer had never felt as cold as he did now.

 

He wanted to recoil from the sight and sound of the blonde boy beginning to snap. He wanted to hide from the horror of what he'd caused, but he drew Hayner to him instead.

The boy was rigid in his arms. Seifer cradled Hayner's body against him, and smoothed his hair, murmuring `I'm sorry', and `I love you', and countless other things he couldn't later recollect. He held him until the tension abated and his body shook in silent sobs.

 

 

 

******

 

It was warm and dark, Roxas thought, lying here on the couch like this. They had been drifting in and out of sleep for a while now, too comfortable to move. The hush of early morning, many hours before sunrise, imbued the room with a delicate calmness. The cool air on his back was a complement to the cozy heat beneath him.

 

Roxas smiled sleepily. Axel, in a hoodie, was the best pillow he'd ever had. He buried his face in the softness of the dark cloth. He wanted to close his eyes and sink back into peaceful slumber, but the questions buzzing in his mind were being persistent.

 

“Axel?”

 

“Hmn?” The redhead's voice was sleep roughened.

 

“Can you clear a few things up for me?”

 

“Sure,” Axel said gamely, distorting the word with a yawn.

 

“That place we were, when we knew each other before…” Roxas prompted.

 

“Organization XIII.” He yawned again, and shook his head. “Yes, that's where we first met.”

 

Roxas looked up at him. His aqua eyes were sleepy and gorgeous. “Why did I forget everything when I left, but you didn't?”

 

Axel blinked slowly as he thought about that a moment.

 

Roxas stared at the tiny inverted teardrops tattooed under his eyes, fascinated, and found himself wanting to touch them. Such curious little marks. He was just about to reach up when Axel started to speak. “I think it's for two reasons. When you left, you didn't really want to remember anything. And then, as more time passed, what memories you had slowly leached away. That would have been the Organization's catch-all protection affecting you. Non-Org. members cannot retain memories of anything related to Organization XIII for very long. It's like the Castle of Oblivion, but more widespread.”

 

“But that doesn't seem to have affected you…”

 

“I wasn't trying to forget,” Axel reminded him. “And not much time has elapsed since I left.”

 

“Wait, does that mean that you might not remember me later?” Roxas asked with poorly concealed alarm. Creeping dread was coiling its loathsome fingers through his chest. No, not so soon! They had only just rediscovered each other!

 

Axel gave him a small smile. “Neither of us is Org. anymore. Anything we forget is related to that, and not each other. Any memories we make together are our own now. The Organization can't touch them.”

 

Roxas breathed a sigh of relief. “You've really thought this through,” he ventured. “What were you going to do if I couldn't remember anything about you?” Roxas gave in to his earlier urge, tracing the tiny black marks beneath Axel's eyes, watching as they fluttered closed.

 

“I was going to try my damnedest to befriend you,” he said with intensity, a pained expression flitting over his perfect face.

 

“Is that all?” Roxas' hand drifted lower, tracing the curve of the redhead's cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across Axel's lips. He felt them part, and the tip of a tongue flicked his skin. The playful touch sent tingles all the way down to his toes.

 

He raised his eyes to find Axel watching his reaction enigmatically. Roxas felt his face flush, as Axel's hand cupped his cheek. Kiss me, he thought fervently.

 

“I was hoping that our feelings would be strong enough to bring us together again, but if not- I'd take whatever you were willing to give me.” Axel gave him a sad smile. “Being near you was more important to me than anything else. I just had to wheedle my way into your new life, and form at least an acquaintance with you, before my memories were taken from me.”

 

Roxas stared at his lips as he spoke, wanting more than anything to close the distance between them, but the words were pinging his heart with sad longing. “So as long as we knew each other before that happened, we'd have a chance?” It seemed so haphazard, so impossible.

 

“Yeah.” Axel ran a hand through his red, sleep-tousled hair, attempting to grin. “A chance at being normal people, forming normal relationships. It was a risk- but I was sure that we'd be close again one day.”

 

Axel, that's depressing, Roxas thought at him morosely. “So, we'll still forget about the Organization eventually?”

 

“Probably. But it doesn't matter.” Axel stroked Roxas' cheek tenderly. “You were the only thing I'd want to remember about that place.”

 

Roxas ducked his head and hugged Axel tightly, trying not to imagine the loss of him. “That was such a big gamble,” he whispered. “It might not have worked.”

 

“I had to try.” His voice was tortured. “Once I found you, I couldn't make myself stay away and I knew eventually I would compromise your safety.” Axel's arms closed around the blonde. “The Org. would find you through me, and I'd be responsible for giving away your location.” He took a shaky breath. “Even now, they might always find us and kill us.”

 

It was a hard truth, Roxas thought. But if that's the way things were…

 

“As long as I'm with you, I'm fine.” Roxas' eyes met Axel's with fierce determination. “…whatever happens.”

 

Axel tilted Roxas face up to his, and kissed him desperately.

 

 

 

 

******

 

“What're you doing?” Hayner mumbled tiredly against Seifer's chest as he was picked up. His body sagged with exhaustion.

 

“Damage control,” Seifer said as he carried him into he bathroom. He set him down on the countertop and took another look at the blonde's damages, trying to decide where to begin. It looked even worse in the stale fluorescent light. Hayner's skin looked waxen and pale, and the bruises stood out more starkly in sickly purple and magenta. There weren't as many as he'd thought there were from seeing them in the dark. Some of it was just smeared blood.

 

Seifer opened the small linen closet behind him and grabbed a clean washcloth. Hayner sat obediently, not saying a word, his eyes unfocused.

 

Seifer turned on the faucet. It took a little while for the water to run warm, but when it did, he filled the sink with it. He submerged the cloth, letting it thoroughly saturate, and loosely wrung it out.

 

Hayner hissed when he felt the cloth touch his skin. Life flowed back into his eyes as he said, “Is that necessary?”

 

Seifer looked at him, all seriousness. “It is. We have to get you cleaned up. But I could throw you in the tub, if you'd rather.”

 

Hayner looked caught between a scowl and a smile. “This's fine,” he mumbled, letting Seifer take care of him.

 

He bore the ministrations without another word, both liking and hating the warm wetness of the cloth dabbing against his skin. Seifer was careful and methodical. The only thing that really hurt was when he re-soaked the cloth and pressed it to the newly clotted flesh to reopen the wounds.

 

“Here. Hold this,” Seifer said distractedly, indicating the cloth. He began rooting around in the cabinet under the sink for antiseptic, bandages, and things. He placed them on the other side of the counter and ripped open a packet of gauze, dousing it with a liberal splash of alcohol. Seifer took the washcloth from Hayner and dropped it into the pink- tinted water in the sink. “This'll sting,” he murmured as he held the anesthetized gauze to the bleeding cut.

 

Hayner sucked in a breath as the alcohol sent needle-sharp probings into his skin. It felt like the wound was being ripped open all over again. “Damn. You weren't kidding.”

 

“Hold that on there until the bleeding stops so I can do the others.”

 

“Sure,” he said softly as he watched Seifer work. A slight frown marred the older boy's face as he dressed the wound, but his hands were sure and gentle. Hayner wasn't sure he needed all this - not that he knew anything about first aid. But Seifer's efforts made him feel warm and calm. The bathroom ceased being just that and became, instead, a close-knit space where only the two of them existed. He could feel the strings of thought and touch and feeling that laced around them, the pull that drew them together.

 

Seifer took his hand gingerly, turning the abraded part up and holding it over the sink. He turned on the water and let it wash the dirt and grit out of the raw skin. He tipped Hayner's hand slightly, from side to side, to help the water pluck out the more stubborn bits. Hayner winced. The water felt like tiny, soft fingers scrabbling and pulling at the wound. Seifer's silken hair fell forward, obscuring his eyes, as he bent over the sink in concentration.

 

“Did you mean what you said before?” Hayner asked him quietly.

 

There was a tense moment before Seifer reached out to turn the faucet off again. “Which thing?” he responded carefully.

 

Hayner remained quiet while Seifer dried his hand with a towel. He was having trouble asking outright, and was revising and discarding a million ways to say it. “When I was… upset before…” He watched as Seifer tore open the paper wrapper of a large bandage and started to apply antibiotic ointment to it. “Did you mean it when you said you loved me?” The words felt heavy as they left his mouth, falling like stones into water, shaking the placid surface with a thousand waves.

 

Seifer's hands stilled.

 

The silence seemed unending.

 

“Yeah,” Seifer said finally, “I did.” He kept his eyes on the bandage, picking up were he left off. He looked up only after he had secured the adhesive ends to the good skin above and below the heel of his hand. There was a pained look lurking half hidden within them. “Maybe that's why I can't control my temper when it comes to you.”

 

Hayner's breath caught in his throat. Love? He rolled the word around in his mind, testing it. It had the ring of undiscovered truth behind it. Could that also be the name for this insanity he was always feeling? “Seifer…”

 

 

“You don't have to say anything,” Seifer interrupted, breaking eye contact. “It is what it is.” He pulled Hayner's arm closer, turning it to inspect the last untreated spot. The torn up skin was just under his elbow- along the forearm. He wouldn't be able to get at it to clean it this way. He needed Hayner to stand at the sink while he poured water over it, otherwise it'd be a real mess. “Hop down,” he said as he turned the water back on.

 

Hayner slid off the counter and moved in front of the sink, as Seifer indicated. He'd wanted to tell Seifer he might maybe feel the same, but the older boy had brusquely turned that conversation aside. The moment was irretrievable, with nothing but a hint of discord in the air to attest to its passing.

 

“Hold out your arm.”

 

Hayner caught sight of Seifer's face in the mirror as he moved to comply. It was perfectly blank. He'd come to recognize it as Seifer's game face. It annoyed him that the miscreant could, and would try to hide things from him. Hayner held his arm out at an intentionally difficult angle. “Like this?”

 

Seifer frowned. “No, you'll get the bandage on your hand wet.” Seifer readjusted his arm so his wrist was at shoulder height, then began filling a cup next to the sink with water. He lifted the brimming cup and poured the water so it ran over Hayner's forearm and down off his elbow.

 

Hayner let him repeat the process twice before shifting his arm. First he angled so the runoff was in danger of flooding the counter. Next, he swayed, almost knocking his arm into the cup. Each time, Seifer's eyebrow twitched, and he brought the blonde's arm patiently back into position. The third time, Hayner let his hand drop almost low enough for water to soak the bandage on his hand. This time, mild annoyance surfaced on Seifer's face. Their eyes met in the mirror.

 

“Hayner, are you doing this to vex me?”

 

Hayner did his best, wide-eyed, `who, me?' look. He could see for himself that it didn't look quite as innocent he'd intended.

 

Seifer set the cup down. He stepped behind Hayner and slid an arm around him, gripping the younger boy's wrist in his left hand. He held it aloft in the `correct' position. “If you can't manage…” His eyes clashed intimately with Hayner's as he bent to speak in his ear. “Then I guess I'll just have to help you.”

 

Seifer's lean form was warm against his back, his lips brushing against his ear. Hayner shivered and nodded, closing his eyes. His heart was pounding, and for the first time that night, it was in a good way.

 

Seifer leaned forward to retrieve the cup, holding the blonde tightly in place, and noticed a faint flush on his cheeks. Oh? He pretended not to notice as he cleaned the abrasion with cup after cup of poured water. The boy's expression was as close to peaceful as he'd seen it tonight.

 

Seifer allowed himself a small smile. He'd been afraid that the blonde would recoil from physical contact, so he'd purposely kept his distance. But it seems he'd been goaded into initiating something after all. “Still a brat,” he breathed into Hayner's ear, grinning when Hayner's cheeks flushed, and his brown eyes opened peevishly.

 

“Aren't you done mummifying me yet?” Hayner grumbled as Seifer patted the water off his arm, and prepared to dress it.

 

“Almost.”

 

Seifer splashed alcohol directly onto the wound, drying the runoff with more gauze. While the antiseptic evaporated, he ripped the paper off two large sterile pads and smeared them with more of the clear antibiotic gel. He placed the pads, overlapping them a little, and wrapped a thin, lightweight bandage around a section of Hayner's forearm to secure them.

 

“What's that?” the blonde asked. “It looks kinda like an ace bandage or tape or something.”

 

“Cohesive bandage,” he said simply, cutting it off the roll, and smoothing the end down. “It'll stick to itself, but not to your skin.”

 

Hayner watched Seifer as he cleared away the mess and put things back into the cabinet. “Um, thanks,” he said. “I wouldn't have known how to do any of that.”

 

“It's not a problem. I patch people up all the time.”

 

An uncomfortable silence fell between them.

 

Seifer cursed his poor choice of words. He hadn't meant to allude to the fights he and his friends often got involved in, or the injuries they sometimes sustained. He just spoke without thinking. Stuff like that was a way of life when part of a gang. He ran a hand through his hair. “I need a beer,” he muttered and left the bathroom.

 

He shuffled into the kitchen and pulled a bottle out of the fridge. He paused with the door open. Better make that two. He grabbled the second one by the neck with the same hand, causing the glass to clink together, and shoved the door shut.

 

What the fuck was he going to do about all this? He popped the top on a bottle and took a long swig. Jeezus. Why did everything have to get so complicated?

 

He finished his beer in the dark silence of the kitchen.

 

 

Hayner looked up when Seifer entered the room. He was sitting on the bed, skittish again, looking like he had something to say. Seifer sighed mentally.

 

“I should go back to Roxas',” the blonde stated.

 

Like hell. “Now?”

 

“Yeah. I haven't seen him since we got to the party. He'll be wondering if I'm ok.”

 

“You're not ok.” Seifer stated bluntly, walking over to the bed. He set his beer and a glass of water on the table beside the bed. He went back into the bathroom a moment and came back with a bottle. He shook two pills into his hand and recapped it, tossing it on the floor as he sat on the bed. He didn't need Hayner reading the label. “Here, take this.”

 

“What is it?” the blonde asked suspiciously.

 

“A strong painkiller.”

 

“I don't need that.”

 

Seifer gave him a baleful look. “You will when the shock wears off. Just trust me on this.”

 

Hayner relented, and accepted the large white pills and glass that Seifer held out to him. He popped them into his mouth and washed them down with a gulp of water. He passed the glass back to Seifer and lay down. “I really should go.”

 

Seifer lounged against the headboard of the bed, bringing one leg up so he could rest his arm on his knee, the bottle hung from his hand in a relaxed grip. “Can't it wait? Nobody is up at this indecent hour.” He ruffled his hand absently through the blonde's hair as he tilted the beer bottle to his lips.

 

Hayner closed his eyes. “Roxas might be. He worries.” He was getting distracted by the feel of fingers running softly through his hair. “And has insomnia,” he added for good measure.

 

“What if you go, and end up destroying his first night of peaceful sleep?” Seifer asked softly, looking down at him. Hayner's face almost looked angelic in the diffused light. Seifer felt the corner of his mouth turn up with amusement.

 

Hayner thought about that a long while and yawned. “It isn't very likely.”

 

“Why don't you just call him?” Seifer asked quietly, noticing the blonde's breathing starting to even out. It wouldn't be too much longer now.

 

“What if `e doesn't pick up?” Hayner slurred sleepily. “'Sides, I told Gran… that's… where I'd be.”

 

The painkiller had a sleep aid in it, and it tended to work pretty fast. He knew Hayner would be mad if he found out, but he just didn't want to let the blonde out of his sight. Not after what had happened.

 

Seifer watched Hayner for a few more minutes. When he was sure the blonde was solidly asleep, Seifer got up carefully. He grabbed his beer and his cell phone and went out into the living room, closing the bedroom door partway. He flicked the cell open and pushed a few buttons on the glowing keypad.

 

He let it ring until he got voicemail, then he hung up and called back. Someone picked up on the next ring. They sounded annoyed. “Dammit, man, don't you have any patience? Do you know what time it is?”

 

“Yeah. It's fucking early.”

 

Xavier sighed in irritation.

 

“Listen,” Seifer said. “I called to apologize.”

 

“You really didn't need to wake me up for that-”

 

“Well, I also needed to ask you something.”

 

“Figures,” Xavier muttered.

 

“Oh, c'mon, Xav!” he said with exasperation. “If I was just calling to say `sorry I was an asshole earlier', I would've waited until I wasn't being an asshole for waking you up.”

 

“All right, all right,” Xavier grumbled. “What is it then?”

 

“How far did the guy get before you got there?” Seifer asked, his voice low and cold. “And who do I need to kill?”

 

 

 

 

___________________________

TBC