Scandalous! Or, Seifer Almasy and the Angry Inch

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing, I tell you! Also, this is really just an introduction chapter, but don't worry. The hot guy on guy action comes later, and trust me, there is lots planned. Be patient, okay?

Scandalous! Or, Seifer Almasy and the Angry Inch

Chapter One: Tear Me Down

It would be quite a stretch to say that Rinoa and I ended our relationship amicably. It wasn’t her fault, nor was it mine. Well, it kind of was my fault, but hello, only nineteen. I’m allowed to fuck up every once and a while, SEED related responsibilities aside.

Actually, I think I should be allowed to make mistakes in the SEEDy stuff. As I said, only nineteen. Who puts supreme executive power in the hands of a hormonal time bomb like myself? Cid probably just wanted a vacation, and possibly some promotion related ass. Eww. I think I just vomited in my mouth a bit.

Rinoa and I were complicated. Oh, who am I shitting? Rinoa was a dumb bitch. I was a fag. Rinoa was to mentally deficient to realize I was a giant flaming ‘mo even after she heard about my special shower sessions with Irvine. I was in the closet at the time, and even I thought I was straight. But she’d seen my unwillingness to have sex. She felt my cold, passionless fishlike embrace. I kind of think that might have been a give away, that and the “problems” getting it up. I was eighteen at the time. I should have been able to get it up for anything. But no, little Miss Breasts and Ass had to insist on her doing all the work.

So we got into a fight. She accused me of being unfaithful. I wasn’t. At this point in time, you may be asking, Squally, if you were gay, why not just tell her that you like the man dong?

It’s really not that simple. I knew I liked guys at this point, but my last relationship was problematic at best. I didn’t want to go back there. Except that I really, truly, sincerely did want to go back to him. He left, I was a helpless little boy, I met Rinoa, we dated, I’m gay, and oops it’s over. She didn’t take it well. Given the circumstance, she might have.

I was in the closet myself, in case you didn’t notice from my saying it about forty thousand times. It was constantly on my mind. “Why knows?” and “Will they still like me?” Obviously, these thoughts sprinted through my heads like fast sprinty things as I “whatever-ed” everyone who dared to speak to me, the great Ice Princess.

Come one, Rinoa. My chosen nickname is in the feminine form. Wake up and smell the flamer. I’ll even make you some Denial pancakes for us to share.

Sorry, bitter. Yes, I know I’m being strangely emotive today, but that Girl and the Boy bring it out of me. She’s really more of a plot contrivance, but he, oh god, my little Seifer, absence makes the heart grow fonder, or something.

Poetry is not my thing. I had a brief fling as a goth artiste poet, but it didn’t work out. I kept the clothes though. The leather makes my ass like good.

Rinoa, I’m wearing leather pants. Do I need to spell it out for you?

So, one day, I did.

It was a Wednesday. It’s always a fucking Wednesday when stuff like this happens. The gang, Zell, Selphie and I were getting ready to go to Club Shampoo in Deling for a night of dancing. Wednesday is Goth night. I love Goth night, all the cute boys. I wouldn’t admit it to myself at the time. I liked CHICKS. Ah, the folly of youth. Youth as in three months ago, but youth none the less.

I was putting on my make up, when Rinoa walks into the bathroom. She’s wearing her favorite blue duster, which means she’s going to ask me something. She thinks it’s my favorite. I like the way it looks on me, but it’s too big for her. I think I subconsciously got it in my size. It was a birthday present, so it’s got some mooch points attached, or something. I don’t get women.

She puts her arms around my waist, being surprisingly forthright. The duster of Plus Ten/ Plus Ten against Boyfriends brushes against my leg. I like the cotton. It’s nice. Rinoa places her head on my shoulder. She’s clearly standing on her tippy toes. I don’t look up. My eyeliner ran out so I had to borrow hers, and the young Miss Heartily does not know how to shop.

“Squally,” she asks in her cutesy voice. I resist the urge to look up. I can feel the puppy eyes in the mirror. Her breasts rub up against my back as she leans on me. She probably thinks it’s subtle and arousing. It’s neither. I don’t rub my dick on Irvine’s leg when I want to fuck. Wait, I do. Never mind.

“Yes, Chicklet?” I shot back in my cute voice. She doesn’t get the fact that it means she’s gum, being chewed up and spit out. Yes, I did spend several days trying to think of a suitably burning nickname for my significant other. Yes, I do understand that it’s not insulting. I’m good at being cold, but I suck at being witty.

“Why don’t you stay in tonight…?” She rubbed my tummy. I wanted to say abs, but that would imply sexuality. My abs are sexy. My tummy was something childish, lost long ago that I don’t want back. OMG, I’m so deep. Rinoa’s a dolt. I really, really don’t know why I asked her out.

“I can’t,” pulling out some mascara. I wanted to be dolled up tonight. Squally needs some loving. She pouted audibly. The room got colder, which is good, because I like the cold. Eat that, you stupid heartless bitch. “I’m going out with Selph and Zell. It’s a thing. Don’t make a deal.”

“But I want some us time. I like us time…” she said in her child voice, trying to be a sexy schoolgirl. Excuse me while I laugh. “Don’t you?”

I smeared my mascara. I think I got some of my eyebrow black. Oh well. I’ll just say it’s a political statement against Galbadian imperialism or something. I wanted to tell her everything, all my doubts, my worries, my trysts with Irvine. I couldn’t, I was frozen, and my eyebrow was darkened. I unfroze and fixed my mascara, shooting myself the sexy look. It’s really quite a good sexy look, if I do say so myself.

“Squall?” She said, with a tiny niblet of worry in her voice. It actually wasn’t the tone that got me, it was the inflection. How you can make ‘Squall’ sound like its two syllables is beyond me. ‘Sqa-all?’ With an emphasis on the ‘all’.

Whatever. I was sick of her droning, and we’ve spoken about a paragraph to each other tonight. I went into our bedroom, looking for my coat. Rinoa followed, peppy.

“So you do want to!” She smiled like a kitty that just caught a mouse filled with poisonous poison. God damnit, I’m so sick of her.

I got up the chutzpah to tell her off and I did the thing any self respecting homosexual man would do.

I slept with her. I did the icky intercourse thing with Rinoa, in my make up and shiny leather pants. We had hot heterosexual sex, the most heated we’ve ever had. She writhed, I writhed, she thrusted, I thrusted, it was a whole writhy-thrusty thing. And you know what? The sex was really, really good. Shame she’s a woman. Didn’t change my view of women, but still, good sex is hard to come by in a school as small as Garden.

After a minute or two from resting from our third time, I rolled over to Rinoa’s pretty black hair, stupid highlights and all. I kissed her icky, badly moisturized lips. “Sweetie,” I went into empathy mode, and I turned my waist away from her. Don’t need to be kneed in the balls after spooging a few times.

“Yes?” Rinoa inquisited with a sigh of relaxation. She looked at me with those big, stupid puppy dog eyes and I just knew I had to tell her. “Yes, Squally?”

“That was really, really good.” She smiled and did her victory face. “AlsoI’mGay.” I said that last bit in one syllable.

Rinoa’s face went white; much like the face of someone who has just went white. Understandable. I am pretty cute. “What? Oh. Huh? What? Oh. Huh? Why?” She said that last bit like machine gun fire. Never changing tone, but fast and painful.

Damn you and your guilt causing vagina.

Rinoa pushed me out of bed. The condom was still on my porcelain boy parts, which were, as they do, rapidly deflating. She threw my black briefs and leather pants at my smooth, muscular body. Hehe. “Get out!” she said with a growl.

“It’s my room. You don’t even live here! You don’t even go to this school!” I replied, ever the logical one. Except for the entire post coital coming out thing. That wasn’t a good idea.

“I need to get changed.” She stood up, taking my red and purple blanket with her, covering her small chest and tiny frame. Look at the blanket, woman! How could you not know?

“We’ve seen each other naked before…”

“…when you were straight!” She blushed, eyes tearing up, if not for the indignation, surprise and lack of intelligence, she would be crying.

I tried to save my own ass, which was rapidly chilling. Stupid air duct. “Okay, I’m going to let you get clothed, and then we’ll talk, okay?” I opened the door and walked out.

At this time I remembered I was completely naked, becondomed and half hard. I dived back into the room. “I’ll let you get clothed while I’m in the bathroom putting some pants on.”

So Rinoa and I broke up. I was sad for a bit, all of the three minutes, and I got ready. I went to Shampoo with Zell and Selphie, who I then came out to. They obviously knew already, but it was more of a formality. We danced; I told them about the sex. Selphie decided to move in for some comforting hot girl on girl action, but by the time we returned to Garden, Rinoa was gone.

Luckily for me, she left the duster.

“Sweet!” I jumped up and down with glee. I knocked over my framed picture of Sis, Seifer and I, from back at the orphanage. Fuck…Seifer.