Star Ocean: Till The End Of Time Fan Fiction ❯ Yaoi Ocean 3 ❯ Chapter One: Confusion ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

The first part of the game after they land in Airyglyph and escape to Aquaria--with a bit of yaoi thrown in, of course.

Oh, and if you like pictures, check out my gallery for a tasty yaoi hentai pic of this threesome...

Non Anime: Star Ocean: Till The End Of Time Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Shounen / Romance / Fantasy / Drama / Adventure / Action | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 05.24.2009 | Updated On: 01.10.2011 | Pages: 3 | Words: 7.3K | Visits: 285 | Status: Work In Progress

I do not own Star Ocean. If I did, I probably wouldn't be typing this; I'd be off blowing all my money from the game… likely on more games. And if I did own it, it might go a little bit more like this fic than it really goes…

Furthermore, if you don't like yaoi, don't read it, you moron. Criticism will placed for all to see and mock (and shall also be laughed at).

If you don't know what “yaoi” means, this might be too much for you.

Chapter One

Confusion

Fayt wasn't too sure how he felt about Cliff—not entirely anyway. The guy had rescued him from one underdeveloped planet only to crash-land on another. At least the first planet, Vanguard III, had been more hospital. The people hadn't been so suspicious… at the very least, they hadn't ended up shackled, thrown in prison, and tortured.

He found himself glaring at Cliff, who sat beside him, on occasion. How were they ever going to get out of here—especially after Cliff told Mirage not to come rescue them? Fayt wished he had demanded to stay with Mirage: Out of the two of them, she seemed the more sensible. Even still, she did seem to trust Cliff for whatever reason, so maybe she wasn't as sensible as she seemed. Fayt certainly didn't trust Cliff though. Not after this.

“Hey, what're ya glarin' at me for?” Cliff demanded.

“It's your fault we're here,” Fayt hissed. He believed that the term was “out of the frying pan and in to the fire.” It fit the situation at any rate.

Cliff opened his mouth, as if he were going to set him straight, thought better of it, and closed it again. He stared up at the ceiling, watching a stalactite forming in the corner from the dripping water. It really was cold. Colder than… Well, colder than some things. He rubbed his back against the wooden post on the cot. The place between his shoulder blades itched something terrible. He strained at the restraints a little bit. He knew it wouldn't do any good, but he would try anyway. They were called “restraints” for a reason. He tried rubbing the spot on the post, but it just didn't do it.

Fayt was watching him curiously. It must have looked awkward. “What are you doing now?” he wondered incredulously.

Cliff shrugged a shoulder—as best he could anyway. “My back itches. Drivin' me crazy.”
Fayt rolled his eyes, shaking his head a little. He pulled his legs up against his chest. “Serves you right anyway.”

The Klausian made another failed attempt at scratching that irritating place on his back. Damn! He ground his teeth in frustration at his inability to reach the spot. “Hey, Fayt. Scratch my back for me.”
“My hands are tied too,” Fayt pointed out.

“I know that. Just turn around and scratch with your back to me.” Fayt sighed and stood up and walked over to him. Cliff turned. Fayt blindly poked and prodded until he found the place under Cliff's direction. This is weird! Fayt thought. And then, Cliff is really muscular. He thought of his own body—lean, but not very muscular. Maybe he should have worked out a bit more—built up some bulk or something. He felt really inferior next to Cliff, and it was a lot like comparing a scrawny puppy to a wolf kind of inferior. To say the least, he was a bit jealous. He heavily sat down again. “So, you learn anything?” Fayt asked.

Cliff nodded thoughtfully. “Yep,” he answered. Fayt raised a questioning eyebrow. “The whips on this planet hurt too.”

Fayt thought he might start screaming and foaming at the mouth. However, he managed to restrain himself; the freezing cold helped. He had been down here too long: His toes were numb and so were his fingertips. He could see his breath as well. He talked with Cliff a while longer. He was beginning to get the idea that Cliff, at best, was an optimist, and at worst, over-confident. He didn't like it; he was more of a realist.

“Here she comes,” he said, gesturing out the cell door. Fayt looked up. He was half-expecting a head of defiant blonde hair, but instead, the one who had felled the guard was a rather pretty redhead with a proposition. Albeit, it wasn't much of a proposition.

Her name was Nel Zelpher, and Cliff more or less decided for them that they were joining up with her. It made Fayt wonder if, had the inquisitor been a pretty girl instead of a hefty man, Cliff would have cooperated. The thought was a bit troubling.

They followed her out the dungeon, incapacitated a few guards, and headed in to the aqueducts. The tunnel getting in to the aqueducts was dark and icy in a few places. To say that it was a bit cold was like saying a tree was a bit wooden. But anything was better than awaiting their doom in a prison cell.

Fayt's hand brushed something. He gave a start and automatically backed up, in to Cliff. Cliff grunted in surprise. Fayt slipped on the ice, catching Cliff's arm with his leg. Cliff fell on top of him. Fayt's face reddened. He could feel Cliff trying to get up again over his back. His body heat was kind of nice—the only real heat source here was each other. It was tempting to stay that close, but freedom beckoned. The sudden chill on his back was worse than before. It had been nicer when Cliff was there; he had felt warm enough to remember what it was like to be warm. Besides, the way Cliff's muscles had flexed when he got up on Fayt's back had somehow felt really good—maybe because of the heat, or maybe because… Fayt wasn't sure about another reason. It must have been the warmth.

“Fayt, what are you doin'?” Cliff demanded.

“S-Sorry,” he stammered. Fayt clambered on all fours again. “I touched something. I don't know what it was.”

Nel piped in, “There are rats in here—if you find a carcass or two, it wouldn't be surprising.”

Fayt shuddered. A rat carcass. At least it was too cold for the carcass to do anything in terms of rotting. Still… a rat carcass. He made sure to avoid the place he had touched it this time. He was dying for a good shower. Yes, a shower would be wonderful. The top of his head brushed the ceiling. “It's getting lower,” he called back nervously.

Nel's voice was calm and reassuring. “Don't worry; it gets a little more narrow up ahead, but it shouldn't be a problem for either of you.”

Yes, a shower was definitely in order. His hair felt grimy from touching the ceiling of the crawlspace, to say nothing of his hands and knees. But it wasn't only that; he hadn't had a single opportunity to bathe since that morning when the Vendeeni attacked Hyda. He must have been smelling pretty rank by now.

Mmm, a hot shower just sounded divine. Shampoo, conditioner, soap… Ah—soap! The thought of cleanliness spurred him on. He knew that this civilization probably wasn't advanced enough to have showers yet, but they would have baths, certainly. Yes, a bath. He could work with a hot bath too. But it had to be hot—not warm, but hot. The kind of hot that would turn his skin completely red. He didn't mind looking like a walking sun-ripened tomato, but it had to be hot.

The cold chilled him to the bones. What a time to be wearing shorts.

He hoped that Sophia, wherever she was, wasn't this uncomfortable.

He shivered in the cold. Ah, the exit! He clambered out of the hole and waited for the others. He looked at his hands and made a face, swiping his palms on his shorts. He crossed his arms, shivering. If it were possible, it was even colder here.

Cliff and Fayt followed Nel through the aqueducts. There was a monster inhabiting an area, but it was no real threat to them. Strange, though, that something could live in such a place. The running around from the battle, though, made him feel warmer. It would do no good long-run though. He had looked in to the matter after playing basketball outside with some friends one time in the late fall. He had felt warm, but after he cooled down, he was freezing. It was because of an increased heart rate and breathing in cold air that cooled the body internally. They needed to warm up—and fast.

Nel was in the lead. Cliff was trying to chat up Nel, but she was politely steering the conversation towards her goal. She sure had a one-track mind. Always her mission…

Fayt felt a bit dizzy. It must be the cold. He was starting to feel warm too—not a good sign. But he had to keep moving. If he stopped, he might never get up again. How could people live in such a harsh climate? He thought about all the stories he had heard of people dying from things like frostbite and fever in the cold.

He shivered. He couldn't think about stopping. If he thought about it, he might succumb to the urge. Instead, he thought about basketball scrimmages and different plays, staring downwards so he didn't step on some ice and slip or something. It was fairly slippery in places. He didn't notice when the other two had stopped walking and nearly ran in to Cliff. He stopped and looked up at him.

“You all right, kid?” he asked.

“I'm fine. It's just the cold,” he answered.

“Right.” Cliff looked back at Nel. She had apparently been telling him a bit about the aqueducts, and they had stopped so that she could point at a wall, where it was carved out. She was saying something about how the city was above them. Fayt shivered at that thought. The weight of a whole city bearing down on them…

He stamped his feet, waiting for Nel to finish. It was really cold. His stomach growled. When was the last time he had eaten? When he couldn't immediately remember, he decided that it was too long ago.

Fayt fainted without any kind of warning. One second, he had just thought he was a bit hungry and cold, the next he was unconscious. Luckily for him, Cliff had swift reactions, and had caught him before he hit the ground. Fayt's eyes opened—it had been a quick five-second blackout.

“You want to take a break?” he asked. “You're sure straining yourself.”

Fayt shook his head. “No, really. I'm okay. The cold is getting to me, and I'm a bit hungry is all.”

Nel pursed her lips. “If you were having trouble keeping up, you should say something. It will only slow us down if you don't.”

Fayt tried to stand. “I'm fine—really.” He stumbled and fell-right back in to Cliff's arms. He groaned, feeling his face heat with embarrassment. At least it was heating with something.

“I'll carry you for a while,” Cliff informed him. Fayt protested, naturally, but it did no good and in half a second, he was in Cliff's arms. Cliff followed Nel. Fayt sighed and accepted his… fate, no pun intended. Cliff's body heat was kind of nice anyway. Fayt couldn't remember being carried. Ever since he had learned to walk, his parents hadn't carried him. It suddenly occurred to him that a groom might carry the bride over the threshold a bit like this. He groaned quietly at that. If Cliff noticed, he never mentioned it.

Fayt was really quite light for a boy his age. It was rather surprising, actually. Even with the heavier outfit and the sword, he didn't weigh a whole lot. It was a positive thing, though, because it meant that Fayt wasn't a cumbersome burden. Besides, he was keeping Cliff's chest a bit warmer that way. It really was cold. He should have given the kid something to eat when they got on the ship too; he had just never thought about it, what with the Vendeeni attack and such. All the same, he felt a bit responsible. Fayt was, after all, his charge. Which is why he was carrying him, right?

“I can walk now,” Fayt said. Cliff immediately set him down. It was suddenly a bit colder. An odd shadow of loss passed over him and was gone. Fayt walked a bit ahead of them, mostly to hide his red face. He wiped at his nose. The tip of it was getting cold. He sniffed a little. Fayt hoped he wasn't getting a cold.

He paused, looking at the path ahead. “What is it?” Cliff wondered.

“Nothing. It's just icy,” Fayt said, staring at the frozen path. There was no way around it. Slipping would be dangerous.

“Well, I guess we'll have to be careful.”

Nel stepped to the fore. “I'll go down first. Fayt, follow me.”

Fayt chose not to say anything, but she was putting him in the middle on purpose this time—in case he fainted again, or something else that was embarrassing. He wanted to go home. This would be easier with a pair of ice skates, he thought.

To Fayt's delight, he didn't fall. Cliff, however, wasn't so fortunate. Intent on studying Fayt, in the event that his charge should fall (and potentially break his neck), he hadn't been paying as much attention as he should have to where he was putting his own feet. Consequently, he fell and landed on his rear end. Nel turned and frowned. Fayt stifled a laugh before he extended his hand to help him up. Cliff accepted, as the ground was icy. Things did not go according to plan.

You see, Fayt had approximately one third of his right foot on the icy path, and, upon helping Cliff up, he put more weight down on that foot. Surely, one can see the error of his ways. To no one's surprise, Fayt lost his balance. Cliff, not yet having obtained proper footing, also fell back down on his posterior. Fayt ended up face-down on Cliff, or, that is to say, in Cliff's lap. Fayt groaned and rolled over, beginning to hate his life. Cliff, adversely, laughed and got up on his own. He pulled Fayt to his feet and pushed him ahead of him. Both were more careful around the next icy place.

Nel sighed deeply and took the lead again. There was one more long stretch of ice, but this ice was only just thick enough to walk on, and there was water below.

“Be more careful here,” she told Fayt. “It's not completely frozen, and if it cracks, you could fall into the water, and then there's nothing we can do to save you.”

Fayt almost protested, then shut his mouth. He had fallen several times since they had come to the aqueducts. Granted, it wasn't always exactly his fault. Cliff smirked. “Want me to hold your hand?” he teased.

The college boy pouted. “I can walk on my own, thanks,” he retorted. The other only laughed and followed the woman across. It was a relief when they made it out of the place, though, and in to the open air, even if it was more dangerous and the wind chill was worse out here.

Nel reminded them of the importance of leaving as quickly as possible. As neither Fayt nor Cliff knew the city very well, Nel led the way out, using back roads as often as possible and quickly stealing through the open city gates. There was a covered wagon waiting. They climbed inside and immediately went on their way.

Nel addressed one of her two subordinates. “Is there any food? Fayt—“ She gestured to the blue-haired youth. “—is famished.”

The girl looked thoughtful and nodded. She opened a small box and pulled out a bundle. “It's only field rations, but it will tide you over until we get to Kirlsa.”

`Kirlsa…' Fayt thought. Must be a town. He accepted the rations. After a moment, he offered some to Cliff, who declined. He was more interested in information than food. Nel told them about the current situation with Airyglyph, the country they had landed in. Her country, Aquaria, seemed to be gradually losing, and they wanted Cliff and Fayt's technology to win. It just didn't sit well with Fayt. Cliff may not care, but there was the UP3 to consider. Violation of the UP3, the planet preservation act, was rather severe. It prohibited contact with a people from an underdeveloped planet, like this one. Fayt cringed inwardly at the thought that they had crash-landed in a city. They couldn't have picked a worse place, could they?

Besides that, why were people living in a place so cold and barren anyway?

However, speaking of the people of Airyglyph, one of the three Brigades had caught up to them. Fayt didn't understand the entire situation quite clearly, but it was clear enough that they were in trouble. The decision was made to abandon the girls—Tynave and Farleen—with the wagon and the other three would escape on foot.

Fayt was horrified and protested, even after they had left, which made Nel grow cross. It wasn't right to abandon a comrade like that. But, he hated to admit it, she had a point. If they had all tried to escape, they would have been picked off. But the idea that people—albeit complete strangers and nothing more to him—had risked their lives and will probably lose them to help him… it gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Cliff didn't seem to like it any more, but he saw the foolishness in trying to make a stand and so he didn't bother to even suggest it. Instead, they trudged on foot to Kirlsa. Fayt had a bit of a dizzy spell. What was wrong? Probably all the activity, coupled with little food, the high elevation, and the cold air.

Nel and Cliff were a bit worried that he might not make it to town. He felt like a child. They're both older than me, he thought. But that doesn't mean anything. I'm just too weak. He had never really felt so weak before the attack on Hyda. But now… Now he felt weak. I need to become stronger.

Once this is over… he thought. Then, another thought struck him before he finished that one. The ending seems a long way off.

Kirlsa was a town that depressed the individual upon seeing it. It made it obvious that it was a town devoted to the war efforts, somehow. It was a hard town, in a difficult place. Everything seemed to be the same colour of the dull rock and useless soil—and the people reflected that. Of course, not all of them, but many of them.

Nel took them to the inn and left on some errand. Fayt sat down heavily in one of the chairs in their small room. While he wasn't too thrilled about being in this place, a bed sounded pretty appealing—even if it wasn't anything he was used to. He was pretty tired and footsore; he'd sleep like a rock no matter what happened. Cliff stretched and looked out the window. There wasn't much to see, and he turned away.

Fayt contemplated going to bed early, but decided that, for the moment, he was more restless than tired. He arched his back, pulling the muscles taut for a moment. He relaxed again, sagging a bit. The movement had felt good. He rolled one of his shoulders and massaged a knot on his neck. Now that he was trying to relax, he felt all of the little aches and pains that he had been able to ignore while on the move.

“This place is pretty bleak, isn't it?” Cliff commented dryly.

Fayt glanced up at him. To Fayt, everything seemed pretty bleak right now. The environment might as well be bleak too; it fit his mood. He changed the subject before it really began. “We can't really afford to waste our time here with these people.”

Cliff shrugged a shoulder in seeming agreement. “Yeah, but what else can we do? We don't have anything that will send a strong enough signal. That Greeton place, though—if we can get there, we might be able to use their technology.”

Fayt pursed his lips in thought. “Yes, I guess so.” He glanced away. He was worried about his father, mother, and Sophia. Fayt stood up. His feet protested the movement, but he was getting restless and sitting still seemed impossible. “I'm going for a walk.”

The Klausian nodded absently, then turned toward Fayt, grabbing his arm before he walked out the door. “Don't do anything unnecessary. We're still in the red zone, got it?”

Fayt scowled. “Yeah, I know.”

Cliff's grip relaxed, but he didn't release him. Fayt could pull away if he wanted to. If he wanted to… Neither moved, but both looked at each other for what seemed a long amount of time. The seconds slipped by like sand in a child's hand. Fayt looked away first, feeling some colour rise to his cheeks. He hurried out the door.

He walked around the town, though there wasn't much to see. The people seemed oppressed somehow. They had a starved look in their eyes—and it was more than the country's apparent lack of food, but something else. There was fear there. After some thought, he realized what it was. What kind of place was this that the people would be starved for something as universal as to have the yoke of fear removed? What they were starved for was freedom from that fear.

But afraid of what? He listened to the townsfolk talking. They spoke of the war, of their king, of their lords. One spoke of a religious persecution. Fayt quickly realized what seemed so wrong about the town; people were gone. Not missing, but accounted for and dead. At that, not just dead, but martyred. A lump rose in his throat and stuck. He didn't like this place.

In his wandering, he saw a figure speaking in hushed tones in a secluded place. It intrigued him, so he came closer and realized that it was Nel the other was speaking to. The two quickly noticed him, and ended their conversation. Nel dismissed the town person.

She addressed Fayt, “That was one of my subordinates, who gathers intelligence here in Kirlsa.” She looked up at the sky. “It's getting dark. Let's head back to the inn.”

Fayt nodded wordlessly and walked with her silently back to the small inn. He considered that strange look that he had shared with Cliff. What was that? What was going on? Why had it made him blush, and why did he feel strange thinking of it?

When they arrived at the inn, Nel seemed to remember something, and vanished outside again. Fayt sighed and went upstairs. Had she just wanted him to stay at the inn? Why not say so? His stomach protested that he wasn't feeding it. He sighed again. Was there a bakery or a grocer somewhere in town? Maybe he should get something…

Instead, he kept walking up the stairs robotically. He came up to their room. Cliff was fiddling with his scanner, frowning at it. Nothing on it indicated anything out of the ordinary though.

“How was your walk?” Cliff asked conversationally.

Fayt shrugged. “Bleak, like this town.” He glanced out the window again—perhaps for somewhere to rest his eyes, because it certainly wasn't worth the effort otherwise.

Cliff put his scanner away and leaned back in the chair he was sitting in. “So, you think about helping Nel out?”

Fayt moved his mouth around a little, trying to work out a way of answering. He finally shook his head. “Not really. It just doesn't sit well with me.”

“Whatever you say.” Cliff peered at Fayt's face. “Kid, you better get something to eat. You're lookin' awfully pale.”

“I am?” Fayt wondered. He wondered if he looked as starved as this town's inhabitants. Likely not. Their words echoed around in his mind. The training facility outside town, and the executions that had taken place there… How terrible.

“You'll make yourself sick if you don't eat and rest, and then I'll have to carry you all the way to Nel's country—Aquaria,” Cliff said jokingly, but his eyes were serious. Cliff stood up to get a better look at his charge's pale face.

Their height difference was made more apparent to Fayt in such a small room, so close together. He looked up at Cliff. Cliff leaned down a little, getting a good look at Fayt's eyes. “Yep, that's no good,” he commented. He may have been about to say more, but never got that far. Fayt wasn't quite certain of how it happened, because he was sure that Cliff hadn't moved, and he was sure that he hadn't moved. It was like both of them were suddenly there, their lips just brushing each other's in a tentative, unsure kiss.

Each reacted differently to it. Cliff straitened and looked away, raising an arm to scratch his head, and to hide his face. Fayt did an about-face, eyes wide. Had it really happened?

The door opened before he had time to contemplate it or say anything about it. He sniffed the air. Food!

Nel was carrying a bundle of something edible. She set the bundle on the rickety table. Steam buns--Not much of food, but something. To Fayt, they looked wonderful. “Both of you, eat up. You must be hungry.”

The steam buns were divided between the three of them, Nel having the smallest portion. Fayt hurried through his small meal and quickly went to bed. He didn't sleep until the other two had retired and it became quiet, and even then, he drifted off contemplating what had happened before Nel had walked inside.

When he awoke, he wondered if it had even happened at all. He decided that he must have imagined it. It didn't seem real. It was possible that he had just thought it had happened. After all, all of his dreams had simply been a twisted version of the previous day. It could just be a part of that dream. Besides, Cliff looked to be untroubled by it. Yes, it must be a dream, albeit an odd one.

They traveled to Arias through an old mine rather than the road. The road would be littered with Airyglyph soldiers looking for them. The mines seemed a more practical route, given the circumstances. They needed to stay out of sight as much as possible. There was a tremor in the earth a short way in to the mines, just after they had passed the entrance. In the distance, they heard something like a small rockslide.

“I hope that didn't block our path,” Fayt commented.

Cliff scowled, as if just by saying that, it could be so. Nel looked ahead, squinting in the darkness. “That sounded close. I'll scout ahead. You two stay here.”

“But it's dangerous by yourself—what if more of the mine collapses?” Fayt demanded.

Nel nodded. “That's why you two are staying here. If there's another while I'm gone, I might become trapped. But if you're not trapped with me, you can help me get out.” She hesitated. “However, should anything happen to me, I need you two to head to Aquaria on your own.”

Cliff nodded. “Gotcha.”

They watched her go. Fayt couldn't help marveling at her wit and her strength. He certainly wouldn't want to go through this place alone. Fayt leaned against a large boulder. “I hope Nel will be all right.”
“She'll be fine. Call it a hunch.”

Fayt rolled his eyes. He hated Cliff's “hunches.” He looked after where she had gone, listening. “Hope your `hunch' is right.”

“They always are,” he said, his over-confidence near-bursting. Fayt started to say something flippant, but his words were smothered. Cliff's lips covered his, drowning his would-be words as well as scrambling his thought process. He made a startled, strangled noise. Fayt felt like he was trying to swim in chocolate pudding, mentally anyway; he could decide what to do, or on an appropriate reaction. He finally gave up trying to put the pieces of his scrambled mind back in place. Slowly, he relaxed as the other man's tongue ran over his cool lips. It was strange. He had never thought that… Wait, what?

He struggled for a moment in fear. Cliff pushed him against the rock. He stopped struggling. The fear faded to be replaced by… delight? He moaned when Cliff's hand ran over his abdomen, exploring the dips and curves of his stomach and chest. Just as quickly, suddenly, and confusingly as it began, it stopped. Cliff pulled away. Fayt felt suddenly empty and even disappointed. Cliff stalked away, almost disappearing in the darkness, leaving Fayt more or less alone and puzzled.

What was going on?