Connecticut
Chapter Fifteen
By Jamaica
Disclaimer: Squaresoft owns characters and names. I own plot.
Connecticut
Chapter Fifteen
By Jamaica
“Holy fuck!” Squall jumped a step back. Irvine, the trigger of the accident, merely stared with wide-opened eyes. Squall ran into the kitchen and grabbed a stack of Bounty paper towels. He cursed again when he heard footsteps descending the stairs. The water dripped off the metal surface and seeped onto the floor.
Squall dashed back into the study and started to clean up the liquid. However, he heard faint buzzing sound coming from the computer. Shit, Seifer’s really going to kill me now. Well, he thought, I certainly won’t go down without a fight.
Another pair of hands joined his with the paper towels. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you like that.” Irvine explained. “I was just
–““WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!”
*Fuck*, Squall nearly bit his tongue. He slowly stood up, not facing the enraged blond. “An accident.” He replied calmly.
“Yeah, I can see that there’s an accident, genius.” Whatever guilt Squall felt was washed away by the dripping sarcasm from Seifer’s lips and turned into anger. “And I also know that you owe me at least 2 and a half grand for the computer itself plus whatever else I want because guess what, it *is* final’s time and every single piece of work and project I had for the whole semester is on that thing. Now how the hell you’re going to make it up to me is up to you, goth boy –“
“Listen, it’s my fault because I startled him –“ Irvine started.
“– but it better be good and even.” Seifer ignored the insertion and continued with his arms crossed.
Squall looked away from the blond’s face. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he shouted in his head. But he only said, “I owe you nothing.”
“Bullshit!” Seifer glared at him. “What the fuck do you mean you owe me nothing? You –“
“You deserved it.”
He didn’t see the expression on Seifer’s face. All he saw was rage infused in the fist that aimed toward his head. Squall dodged quickly and kicked Seifer’s shin. Seifer yelped while Squall slinked to the opposite wall.
“Come back here, you little motherfucker, because you certainly as hell deserves th –“
Seifer stopped in his string of curses abruptly. Squall looked up and saw Seifer staring with a vicious air. He followed Seifer’s gaze, and saw the target was his painting.
“NO!” Squall made a frantic attempt to get to his unfinished work, but Seifer was closer.
Realization came to late. Squall could only watch as Seifer tore the canvas straight in the middle with his brush’s wooden tip. Paint flecks flickered everywhere, sprinkled lightly on the dust-covered floor. The canvas made a crisp sound as it was cleaved in half. The images that took Squall several days to actually thought up distorted into shapes like in a fun-house mirror and dissipated. The wooden brush he created virtuosos with was in its turn, broken in half and tossed onto the ground with less care than a dead insect.
Whatever shout he had hitched in his throat once again. He didn’t realize the world had gone red until it faded slightly from his vision. In a blinding ire, Squall threw himself at the smirking Seifer, ready to tear him apart like he did with the canvas.
Two hands latched onto his thin waist from behind and forcibly stopped his raging torso. The arms were strong enough to pick him up from the floor by a few inches, for if they hadn’t, they wouldn’t be able to overcome Squall’s momentum. “Whoa whoa, Squall! Beat the living shit out of him is not going to help matter any!”
“Oh yes it will.” Squall said through clenched teeth. “Let go of me, Irvine. Let go!”
“Yeah, so I can kick your head in, *Leonhart!* ” Seifer hollered. “Come on.”
“Seifer, shut up!” Irvine spat. He still hadn’t let go of the brunet in fear of future massacre. “Squall, breathe.”
Squall managed to wrestle free from Irvine’s grasp. He didn’t launch at Seifer, to his own surprise, but simply stood there, breathing heavily. He ran his hand through his damp hair, tussled it some more in the process. He saw Irvine staring hard at Seifer, the eyes permeated with meaning but he couldn’t care to figure it out at the moment. He let out a loud sigh one more time, then turned around toward the door.
Quistis was standing there, absorbing everything in with shocked features. She tried to prevent him from going, but his look silenced her. He picked up his ring of keys from the coffee table in the living room, and stomped out the house.
Inside, his easel crashed down onto the wood.