Making it all the way home with a bad knee and a significantly low amount of blood, proved to be difficult for Hayner, as he slouched against the brick walls just outside of his and his grandmother's home. He dragged his body along the wall, trying to keep pressure off of his leg and stay focused on the goal at hand. When he was able to fumble with the latch and swing the door open, Hayner noticed his grandmother sitting patiently on the living room couch- the television playing softly and her frail hands fiddling with parts of a puzzle that happened to be spread about on the coffee table before her.

His grandmother peeked up at Hayner as the blond skater forced himself inside and shut the door closed. She stood- using the back of the couch to support herself and tutting at Hayner's unkempt appearance. It seemed to take the elderly woman a few prolonged moments to comprehend the copious amounts of blood staining her grandson- and the way his cheeks were dirty and face pulled into a grimace.

"Goodness! Hayner, what happened?" She croaked, shuffling around the couch to get to her grandchild. Hayner felt tears bubbling up in his eyes with relief at finally reaching sanctuary, holding his arm out to the frail woman.

"My skateboard wiped out and I cut my arm open, I had to walk here from the Underground and I think I hurt my knee. I'm fine- it was an accident." His grandmother swept up Hayner's arm in gentle, cold fingers and scrutinized it with pursed lips, her head shaking.

"Oh, Hayner. You know we can't afford the hospital bills for this- you need stitches." Hayner winced profoundly when her fingers poked at the tender, raw flesh of his injury, testing the swollen skin with a tut. Hayner tried to draw his arm back, but with a light smack to the back of his hand- went still.

"We're going to have to sew this up ourselves. I want you to take a nice shower- pour some antiseptic on it, and sit on the table. I'll have to find my sewing kit. This is what you get for being reckless, Hayner, because I don't have anything to numb the pain." Her grandson let loose an agonizing sigh of resigned-fate and took his arm back.

"I know, gramma." He uttered, ignoring the firm pat to his behind that she gave him for presenting his grandmother with any form of an attitude, and hobbled over to the bathroom. He entered it, shutting and locking the door before instantly shucking his pants off and moving to pull his shirt up. It was then that Hayner realized he'd have to pull the sleeve of his shirt over his injury, and groaned at the aspect of even more pain. He did it quickly- the fabric catching and pulling enough to wrench a hiss out of the blond boy's mouth. In a fit of anger, Hayner chucked his shirt at the wall, watching the pile of fabric flop uselessly to the ground.

Realizing the uselessness of his fit, Hayner allowed a long and grieving sigh to escape him. Having done such, he hobbled his way over to the shower, pulling the dull blue curtain back and flicking on the spicket. He tested the water, fumbling his way out of his boxers before stepping under the lukewarm spray and hissing as water trickled into his open wound.

Sighing in contentment at the beads of warmth striking his back, Hayner tilted his head into the shower and closed his eyes, allowing the gel in his hair to become wet and flop around his head. Using his good arm, Hayner slicked the damp locks back out of his face and turned to hold his injury underneath the shower nozzle. The sudden blinding agony that came from doing such caused the blond teen to clap a hand over his mouth and clench the fist of his bad arm. His eyes squeezed shut, hissing through his fingers and allowing the pain to wash over him just like the water did.

As the shocks of pain died down, he tenderly moved his hand from his mouth to shakily run it along the edges of the gash. His fingertips shook - each touch jarring a spark of fire. Shaking himself, Hayner grabbed the soap from its tray and rinsed himself off- taking special care to avoid his wound as much as possible before flicking the shower off and stepping out.

His grandmother knocked gently on the bathroom door as Hayner was wrapping a bath towel around his hips. "Hayner, put a towel on and wait the kitchen, we don't want you getting blood on any more good clothes."

Hayner voiced his acknowledgment, pulling a towel off of the rack and pausing in mid-motion of raising it to his hair to observe himself in the mirror.

His hair drooped down in uneven waves along his face, water droplets clinging to the blond locks for a moment before falling to the bathroom floor. The mere action made him look like some kind of washed up animal. Scowling, Hayner dropped the towel to place his hands against the soft flesh of his abdomen. They stayed there for a prolonged moment, and then slid down to rub idly at the beginning trail of curls that disappeared beneath pale blue fabric.

His scowl increased, hands wrenching from his body in disgust before he picked up the discarded cloth, rubbing at his hair angrily and throwing the towel into the laundry basket- regardless of how wet his hair still was. He opened the bathroom door, goose bumps rising instantly at the sharp contrast of their cold home versus the heated bathroom.

In that moment, Hayner regretted drying his hair so pathetically, and padded through the hallway and towards the kitchen. By the sound of it, his grandmother was shuffling around in the parlor in an attempt to find her sewing kit- which he knew she had any needle known to man. A shudder ran through Hayner, and the blond teen had to clutch protectively to his injured arm at the thought of what was to come.

Pushing open the kitchen door, he caught sight of a kettle sitting atop the stove- most likely an eventual cup of hot chocolate in a future life- and wandered over to the table to push himself onto it using his good arm. He only had a few good seconds to contemplate the events of the day as he waited with nothing to keep him company but the hum of the stove and the clock's monotonous ticking.

Seifer had never acted so... un-Seifer like. It had startled Hayner as much as it had excited him, which had proved to do nothing more but scare him into shoving the taller blond away. Their sudden intimacy was the very thing that Hayner had desired, but after an encounter with Setzer, Hayner hadn't been surprised when his body had reacted before his mind.

Seifer's breath had washed over his lips roughly, his eyes so pale of a blue that he'd felt like he was staring into the calm of a storm. It was sad that the only thing Hayner had been able to focus on in those few scant seconds before his panic had taken over all else.

The kettle hummed and Hayner pushed himself off of the table, adjusting his towel and tenderly holding his arm to his chest as he wandered over to the pot, grabbing a towel to lift it from the stove and set it aside. Using his good arm, Hayner awkwardly pulled a cup out of the cabinet and proceeded to search through the pantry for a package of instant cocoa.

In his success, Hayner was dismayed when he realized that his right had was hardly strong enough to even rip the edge of the packet to tear it open. Frustration rising, he tried again but did nothing but to irritate his already bleeding wound. Cursing, Hayner put the edge of the packet in his mouth, jerking it to rip the corner and effectively send a puff of brown smoke in his face.

Muttering under his breath, the blond skater poured the remainder of the cocoa mix into his cup and set about filling it with hot water. (And getting a good portion of the counter wet at the same time) He'd never before been aware of how important his right hand had become to him as he weakly tried to stir the cup with his left hand, spilling brown liquid all over the place and making more of a mess than anything.

After a few prolonged moments of agitated stirring, Hayner was satisfied enough to place down his spoon and bring the cup to his lips, wincing when the hot liquid burned all the way down his throat. He hissed loudly through his teeth, pulling the drink away from his mouth and shuffled over to the kitchen table as the sound of the doorbell ringing echoed through the aged house. He placed his cup gently on the table, placing his good hand on the edge and stepping on the edge of one of the chairs to hoist himself up onto the oak surface.

The action jarred his cup, chocolate sloshing over the edge and onto the table, to which Hayner reached behind him for the small basket of napkins to clean it up, his bad arm holding to the edge of his towel. Satisfied, Hayner tossed the dirty napkin into the trash bin by the door and slouched back with a smirk when it bounced off of the wall and fell in.

He glanced down at his injured arm, fingers skimming over the red and raw skin and smearing some of the fresh blood that had begun to bubble up when he'd gotten out of the shower. The kitchen door opened and Hayner glanced up, expecting to see his grandmother and freezing when his eyes landed on a blank-faced, coatless Seifer Almasy, who held Hayner's skateboard under one arm, eyes concentrated on Hayner's semi-nude and wet body. Hayner raised his injured hand up to his chest in a shielding motion, lips pursing into a scowl at the sight of his rival. Seifer's eyes suddenly jerked to the side, arm reaching out and tossing Hayner's skateboard onto the kitchen floor with a loud clatter. Hayner sat up straight, brows furrowing.

"Hey, jackass," He started with a low growl, "I bought that with my own money." Seifer raised a thin brow, stepping forward to toe Hayner's skateboard onto its wheels and edge it back by the door, one foot resting on top of it as he cleared his throat. "You left it at the sandlot, after you ran away." This statement caused the thin blond to bristle in anger, prepared to start up his own argument about the situation when his grandmother bustled into the room with a plastic box of supplies, brushing past Seifer and scooting Hayner's mug of hot chocolate out of the way to place it on the table beside her grandson.

"Have a seat, have a seat. This will take a while, I might need some help." The elderly woman croaked to Seifer, waving the large blond to one of the kitchen chairs that were placed around the perimeter of the table. She grabbed onto Hayner's arm, pulling it out to examine the wound while procuring a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the bin. Hayner scowled, leaning forward to mutter quietly to his grandmother. "Gramma, he can't be here!" The woman peered up at him through her spectacles, wrinkled mouth pursing and then shushing the boy loudly.

"Oh, don't give me that, Hayner. Now, hold still." Using her thumb to unscrew the cap to the peroxide and upending it slowly onto Hayner's wound before the blond boy could react. At first, nothing happened, and then the liquid began to bubble with white foam as blinding pain struck Hayner and he choked on a shout of pain, hissing and prying his hand out of his grandmother's weak grasp. He clutched to his injured arm, just below the foaming wound. Seifer hovered over Hayner, softly questioning the blond's grandmother as to what she'd just done.

"Hydrogen peroxide, it'll kill anything that might have started an infection, but it hurts something terrible." The elderly woman muttered as she pulled out a long, curved needle from the box and a thick, black spool of thread. "Hayner, we don't have any Novocain, so you'll have to try and hold still this time." She murmured to her grandson, ignoring how Hayner was doubled over his arm, ignoring Seifer's hovering form.

"You aren't seriously gonna stitch him up, are you?" The older boy inquired, giving Hayner's grandmother a wide-eyed stare. Hayner's head snapped up to level the bully with a look that clearly stated 'shut up, or die' and Seifer's mouth clicked shut.

Threading the needle, Hayner's grandmother nodded her head to the tall blond. "I don't know if you saw what happened to Hayner, but you may want to leave, this can get messy." She reached a hand out to pull Hayner's wounded arm towards herself, pulling out a dry washcloth from the bin and dabbing at the freshly bleeding wound.

"I'm fine." Seifer murmured, his voice laced with self-assertion as he pulled up the nearest chair and sat in it heavily. Hayner reached out his other arm to hold onto his grandmother's shoulder as she held the needle up to the edge of the wound, piercing the skin and threading it across, the skin tugging as she threaded it through. Hayner's hand that clutched to her shoulder turned white at the knuckles and a sound escaped the back of the boy's throat. Seifer peered over his arm to watch the woman working, though she paused after the first stitch. "Hayner, that hurts, hold onto the table." She reprimanded.

Without thinking, Seifer reached an arm out and pried Hayner's hand off of the elderly woman's shoulder, intertwining their fingers and placing his other palm on top of the boy's hand. Hayner looked like he was about to protest, mouth opening to yell at the older boy who was staring at his injury, when his grandmother began the second stitch, and he opted to clutch as tightly to Seifer's hand as possible. He caught his lower lip between his teeth, muffling a groan of pain at the sharp pain and the way his skin was tugged. He could feel the thread inside of his flesh, sliding back and forth with each stitch made and his other hand held tightly to Seifer's large palm, curling his fingers around the bully's hand and relieved to feel the action returned.

Moments dragged by, the silence filled only by the sound of Hayner's heavy breathing and groans of pain that overpowered the ticking of the kitchen clock. The hand that wasn't gripping to Hayner's, Seifer had running along the length of the lithe boy's good arm, trying to distract Hayner at least mildly. By the time they were done, and twenty two stitches had been sewn along the length of the large gash, Hayner's arm was a vivid red color, and the wounded boy had fatigue shining in his eyes more evidently than ever before. Hayner's grandmother meticulously wrapped the freshly sewn injury up in pristine white bandaging, pinning the end with a small safety clip and giving her grandson's arm a gentle pat.

Seifer didn't attempt to pry his hand out of the death grip that Hayner had on it, instead helping the smaller boy to stand up -- steadying Hayner when the skater wobbled unsteadily -- and turned to look at the boy's grandmother, who was packing up her supplies.

"Hayner, you've got to take it easy." She warned, coughing into her fist lightly and wagging a hand at her grandson. Hayner pulled his hand out of Seifer's grasp, pushing past the bully to try and make his way to the kitchen door on unsteady feet.

"Hayner, did you hear me? I swear. You've already lost enough blood; you're going to kill yourself!" The elderly woman harped, face contorted into a look of worry. Seifer stepped up behind the younger teen as Hayner leaned against the kitchen doorway and waved the other two off.

"I'm fine, gramma. I'm gonna go to bed." He murmured, pushing the door open and looking back at his grandmother with a weak smile. Exasperated, Seifer huffed loudly and muttered, "For the love of God," under his breath, approaching Hayner in two long strides and encircling his arms around the other boy's bare waist, lifting Hayner up and onto one shoulder.

"Where's his room?" Seifer gruffly asked Hayner's grandmother, who was trying to hide her smile behind a cough as Hayner protested loudly to Seifer's sudden rash behavior. She quickly instructed him to go up the stairs and into the second room on the left as Hayner beat weakly on Seifer's back with his good arm. Thanking the elderly woman, Seifer shifted Hayner into his arms, carrying him like a small child with Hayner's head on his shoulder. The action itself caused the towel on Hayner's waist to slide down precariously, exposing a good portion of Hayner's behind and earning a wail of dismay from the blond.

Struggling to ignore this fact, Seifer made his way up the stairs as Hayner's protests became softer and finally fell silent when his wriggling and kicking began to earn grunts of effort from the tall bully. Reaching Hayner's room, Seifer had to toe his way past piles of clothes and papers strewn about in order to make it to the bed, where he gently placed the other boy down and stood straight with a sigh of relief.

Hayner adjusted himself, hiking his towel back up his hips and reaching over the edge of the bed and grabbing the first pair of boxers he could reach. He slipped under the covers, pulling them on under his towel and looking up at the older boy with a defiant scowl. Seifer pulled his beanie off, feeling awkward under the injured blond's stare of scrutiny. Running a hand through pale blond locks, Seifer cleared his throat to speak when Hayner interrupted him. "I don't need your pity!" It was blurted out with a sudden burst of rage, obviously said without much thought put into the statement.

Something unreadable flickered across Seifer's scarred face, and he leaned forward, angrily punching Hayner in the shoulder and jarring a grunt of pain from the younger blond, who reached up to snatch Seifer's beanie away from the older teen. "Maybe you should stop thinking about yourself all the time." Seifer snapped, whirling around and leaving the room without another word. As the door snapped shut, Hayner's gut wrenched with an unrecognizable feeling, fingers twisting around the soft fabric of Seifer's hat. The skater slid down into his bed with a moan, turning on his side to curl up weakly and wish that time would simply rewind to a time where life was more simple.

-

Reaching the foot of the stairs, the sound of heavy coughing reached Seifer's ears and he walked into the living room to see Hayner's grandmother clutching to a bookshelf as coughs wracked her frail body. Anger coiling in his gut, Seifer moved to walk past her, fingers curled into fists when hesitation struck him upon reaching for the handle of the front door. Her coughs were loud, echoing painfully against the walls and causing the frustration and hurt inside of Seifer to simmer and conflict with concern for the woman's health. His resolve began to crumble and Seifer clenched his eyes shut, cursing under his breath and pulling his hand back from the doorknob, fisting it angrily.

Making his way to the woman's side, Seifer silently placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her over to a plush seat nearby. Standing back, he turned to leave again when Hayner's grandmother spoke up. "Could you please hand me that glass of water?" Her voice was a soft croak, and Seifer stopped to glance over to the table that she shakily pointed at, catching sight of a glass of ice water and leaving her to grab it. Her coughs stilled after a few moments, shakily thanking Seifer for his help and taking the proffered drink, sipping daintily.

"Your name is Seifer, right?" She asked gently, honey eyes peering up over thick glasses to watch the young blond. Seifer nodded, confusion evident in his features as to how she knew his name, but he kept his mouth shut in lieu of listening to the elderly woman speak. She looked down at her glass, contemplating her next few words. "Take care of my grandson, I'm old and I won't be around much longer, as much as Hayner denies it."

She sat back into the chair, relaxing into it with a long and pained sigh leaving her thin mouth. Seifer took a seat on the foot stool at the base of the chair, brows furrowing in concern at the woman's grimace. Shakily, Hayner's grandmother raised a hand to remove her spectacles, folding the ears and resting them on her lap.

"He's been such a rebellious child, since his parents sent him here." She shook her head slowly, thin shoulders sagging in defeat. "Sometimes I just don't know what to do with him."

Seifer leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasping to one another as the first question to come to mind spilled forth from his lips. "Why'd they send him here?" Hayner's grandmother shook her head again, frowning heavily and letting her eyes fall shut.

"It isn't my place to say, Ha-" Whatever the woman had planned on saying was abruptly stopped when her words were engulfed by another coughing fit. Seifer quickly took the glass of water out of her hand before she spilled it all over herself, holding it up in case she needed a drink. With a wave of her thin hand, Hayner's grandmother shooed Seifer off, placing a hand over her mouth as her coughs died down.

"Goodness, I must have been holding those on all day." She gasped out when the hacking had tapered off, thanking Seifer gently for the offered glass of water and taking a sip. Her eyes fell upon the small roman clock that was sitting nearby, a hand flying to her chest.

"Oh my, its getting late!" Sitting forward, Hayner's grandmother placed her thin hand onto Seifer's knee, giving a gentle squeeze to the boy's muscular joint. "You'd better get home before nightfall. Thank you so much for your help, I know Hayner appreciated it." At this, Seifer's eyes fell to the ground, anger evident in the way his mouth pursed and then pulled back into an almost-sneer. He looked like he was about to speak, but in the end, did nothing but stand and brush himself off.

"Yeah." He grunted, "I'd better go." Having said that, the struggle fighter bid Hayner's grandmother goodbye, heavy boots loud against the wood floor as he made his way to the front door, reaching out to pick his coat off of the rack and pull it on.

"Take care, Seifer." Hayner's grandmother said, her soft statement barely heard by the blond as he left quickly, door slamming shut behind him.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The very second that Seifer reached his condo, he knew something was amiss. His door was already unlocked, a pair of large shoes sitting in the entry that were most definitely not his. Dread coiled in the struggle fighter's gut, and he trailed pale eyes over to the small living room area, mouth pulling into a grimace at the sight of his father sitting on the couch with a newspaper in hand and his socked feet propped up on the table.

Falafel Almasy was the one man in the world that Seifer had first come to hate -- though Setzer had crawled his way up on the ranks in the past few weeks -- Seifer had grown up fearing the punishment of his father's hand, and the harsh words and strict orders that often came from a mouth that was often compared to his own.

Seifer's father glanced up as his son loudly tossed his house keys onto the kitchen counter. He looked back to his newspaper, straightening it out with a clearing of his throat. "This place smells like pig shit." He muttered loudly, pale eyes glancing over his spectacles to watch his son's reaction.

"It happens." Seifer replied gruffly, bending down to unlace his boots and quickly tamping down on the anger that burned in his stomach. Falafel snorted, folding up the newspaper and tossing it onto the coffee table.

"Don't give me that shit, why is there blood all over that coat? Didn't I buy that for you?" Seifer ignored his father's inquiry in favor of kicking his boots off by the entryway. He placed a hand against the wall to support himself, moving to enter the living room.

"Seifer." Falafel growled out in warning, shaking his newspaper once in warning. Seifer did little to acknowledge the man, instead reaching the coffee table and moving to pick up the disks and books that were scattered all over it. He stacked all of his mail into a pile, placing them in the corner, taking the movies and music CD's and setting them on top of the television with the rest of the small pile. His father pulled his feet off of the small table, sloppily folding the newspaper.

"Be grateful you're still in this piece of shit town, Seifer. If it was up to me, I'd have had you shipped off to military school a long time ago." He barked, rising a hand to point a stern finger at his son. Seifer's jaw tensed in anger, pursing his lips and setting a dirty bowl in the kitchen sink. Falafel leaned back into his seat, resting one arm over the back of the couch and clearing out his throat gruffly.

"You're lucky to be staying here, and not back at Radiant Garden with your mother and myself." Seifer froze, sparing his father a glance in the midst of adjusting the counter stools. His eyes narrowed, pale blue icing over with anger and hurt.

"You could care less if I lived with you or not." Falafel cleared his throat, one hand rising to scratch at the patch of blond hair that was just under his lip. He seemed to contemplate his son's words for a moment before granting Seifer with an answer. "Whatever makes your mother happy is what makes me happy." He didn't enlighten Seifer much further than that, leaving his son to growl lowly in the back of his throat while cleaning up a few stray articles of clothing that were scattered along the floor of the living room.

"So, Seifer." Falafel began again, a hand reaching up to adjust the spectacles that rested on the bridge of his straight nose. He pursed lips that were identical to Seifer's, mouth opening to continue speaking as Seifer set a pair of shoes by the front entry. "This is your senior year; do you know what you're going to do once you graduate?"

Anger rising to a near-suffocating degree, the younger Almasy chose to keep silent. Falafel's lips fell into a scowl, sitting straighter against the couch and un-crossing his legs. "Are you keeping your grades up?"

Seifer remained steadfast in his silent vow not to answer his father's questions, moving to close the blinds to his balcony after having opened them that morning. Falafel's face became one of rising fury, his mouth pursing and causing the small patch of hair beneath his lip to bristle. "Seifer Nathaniel, you answer me when I'm talking to you." The menacing growl in Falafel's voice made the blond teen's resolve begin to crumble as fear came in its place.

A sigh of defeat escaped Seifer, his shoulders sagging as he turned towards his father, not once making eye contact. "My grades are fine." He muttered, almost tempted to tag 'dad' to the end of his sentence.

"Do you know what you're going to do when you get out of high school?" Falafel adjusted his glasses, leaning forward to snatch up the remote control and flick the television on, scowling profusely when he was instantly bombarded with loud music. Seifer stood awkwardly by the couch as his father turned the volume down, changing the channel to the news. "Well? Are you just going to stay in this piece of shit town for the rest of your life?" Falafel didn't look at his son, but his voice was using the same tone that Seifer had always heard when his father demanded answers. Frustration rose up in the blond- mostly because he still hadn't decided what he was going to do after graduation- and he threw his hands up in the air.

"I'll figure it out on my own." Seifer snapped, regretting it instantly when Falafel jerked his head to stare at the younger blond. "Excuse me?" He hissed icily, and Seifer stumbled over himself before murmuring an apology. His father seemed pleased with it, and relaxed back into the couch, returning his eyes to the news channel he'd put on.

"I see you're home late, are you even eating?" He peered over Seifer's shoulder and into the relatively-empty kitchen. "What do you spend your money on?" He sniffed in disdain, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Seifer stepped back to lean against the island counter, attempting to look as lax as he wasn't feeling with his father in the room. "Clothes, food, bills, senior stuff." He replied softly, allowing his eyes to fall shut and hide the anger that he knew was shining defiantly in them. Falafel 'hmph'ed, clearing his throat and turning the television off.

"You still have that job, right? Not selling crack on the streets, I hope." Seifer's teeth clenched again, hurt and frustration welling tenfold.

"No dad, I still work at the station."

"I'm hungry, what are you making for dinner?" Falafel instantly changed the subject, instead turning to a lighter note and inquiring his son with an expressionless smile. Seifer released an angry breath, turning around and stomping into the kitchen.

"Food." He snapped back angrily.

--

"Come on, Seifer, gimme your best shot!" Hayner barked, his voice filled with exuberant challenge. His lithe arms were stretched out, a struggle bat held defensively in his hands. Seifer, scoffing, held out what was most definitely not a struggle bat, but a thick sword, the handle more like a gun than anything.

"Bring it on, Chicken-Wuss." The older teen shot back, his lips curled into a near-sinister grin. Hayner, disregarding his utter lack of struggle gear and the fact that his opponent's weapon was not something under the safety regulations, lunged for his opponent. Before the blond skater could react, Seifer's gunblade sliced through the struggle bat, cutting it in half. Hayner had no time to block the sharp edge from digging into his right arm, ripping through the skin and sending shocks of pain through his nerves. With a loud thump, the base of Hayner's destroyed struggle bat fell to the ground while Hayner clutched to his injured arm.

With a distantly growing horror, Hayner observed the lack of blood in his arm, taking in the sight of bone, muscle and cartilage with a detached sort of feeling.

Quickly whipping his head up, Hayner caught a glimpse of Seifer reaching out to him. Fear paralyzed the young skater as his rival snatched up his arm. Seifer's hair was long -- a pale shade of lavender that bordered on silver. In reality Hayner should have made the connection that it was Setzer who held him captive, but no name besides Seifer's seemed to come to mind.

Hayner winced, trying to pull his wounded arm out of the bully's disturbingly strong grasp. "Seifer! Stop that!" He yelped, free hand punching Seifer and his gut wrenching when the boy didn't even budge. Seifer - with Setzer's face and smile -- pulled Hayner into a strong hug. His arms were so tight that it was nearly suffocating Hayner. He moaned, unable to find the normally rebellious energy that he so often had around others.

Suddenly, Seifer's weight was crushing Hayner to the ground and a large hand was slipping into the front of his pants. Hayner bucked into the hand involuntarily, horrified that his body acted of its own accord.

Seifer -- with Setzer's body -- pressed his mouth against Hayner's own, effectively sucking the air from the blond's mouth and beginning to suffocate him. Hayner squirmed, pain flaring up in his arm as Seifer's hand - the one that wasn't in Hayner's pants - dug into his wounded arm, tearing off strips of skin as if they were thick, bloody pieces of paper. Hayner screamed into Seifer's mouth, despaired to realize that no noise actually escaped him.

He could hear someone in the background yelling his name, but it did little to stop Seifer from stroking the hardened bulge in Hayner's shorts, or to keep him from ripping more skin off of the tattered remains of Hayner's arm- of which he could no longer move his hand.

What eventually awoke the blond from the horrific scene he was being subjected to was a series of sickening thumps just outside of his room, as if something had fallen down the stairs. Hayner jolted up from where he lay on his stomach, injured arm pinned beneath his stomach and a tent in his boxers.

He ignored the splotches of blood on his bed and torso in favor of sitting up. Disregarding his erection, Hayner slipped out of bed to pull on a pair of discarded jeans that effectively hid the majority of his problem. Instantly, he trekked out of his room with bare feet padding on the wood floors. As he reached the stairs, Hayner's gut coiled in growing trepidation at the utter silence that the house had been encompassed with. Glancing to the foot of the stairs, Hayner screamed.

"Gramma!" He wailed, almost falling down the steps in his hurried attempt to reach the elderly woman's crumpled form. From what he could see, she was bent at an odd angle, neck twisted to the side and glasses smashed, lying a ways off. Somewhere inside of him, Hayner knew that she didn't stand a chance at being alive for much longer.

--

Leaning back, Seifer's father dabbed at his mouth with the napkin that had been provided. "Decent food, learned from your mother, of course." Seifer grunted in response, clearing off the counter and leaning over the small island to place their dishes into the sink.

Falafel gave his son a long, hard stare before his lips pursed and curled into a sickeningly fake grin that mocked the typically warm smiles that fathers gave their sons. "You obviously have nothing better to do with your life right now, be a good son and walk with me to the station?" He asked, though the question in his voice was more rhetorical than anything. Seifer scowled, hands curling into fists as he forced himself to give his father a nod.

"Course, dad." Was the shorter blond's answer, reaching a hand out to open the front door for his father and allow the man to brush past him.

"Do something about that coat, not that the scar is bad enough, but the bloodstains do little to help with that convict look you're obviously going for." Seifer's hands curled into fists and he grit his teeth to stop himself from saying anything that would earn himself a painful cuff to the head. Instead, the angered blond opted to divest himself of his trench coat and toss it to the floor before following his father out of the condo, making sure to grab his keys before he locked and shut the door with an angry slam.

By the time that Seifer got back home, night had completely fallen, and his fatigue had worsened. Kicking his shoes off, Seifer didn't bother to do much more than divest himself of his coat, falling face-first into bed with a tired grunt. He was just falling into the final moment of sleep when his cell phone began to ring. Groaning, the blond bully rolled over and snatched the device off of his night stand, opening it and holding it to his ear with a low growl of, "What do you want, Rai?"

"Seifer, I think Hayner's hurt real bad, y'know? I just saw one of those ambulance things drive up to his house, they got those stretcher things out, y'know?" Seifer's eyes flew open and he forced himself into a sitting position.

"What." He barked, demanding answers that he knew Rai wouldn't be able to provide, given that he lived at the other end of Hayner's street.

"I dunno, Seif'. They've got a body and they're puttin it in the ambulance, y'know? Someone's gettin' in with 'em, but I can't really see nothin' from where my house is, y'know?" Dread coiled in Seifer's gut, and he slipped out of his bed, running a hand through thick blond hair and sighing loudly.

"Can you follow them?"

"I'm on it, Seifer. Count on me." Rai confirmed, hanging up instantly in order to most likely run out into his garage and fetch his bicycle so he could at least follow the ambulance from a distance and find out which of the two hospitals that Hayner would be in. Seifer snapped his phone shut, falling back on the bed with a long breath. His face pursed into a grimace, eyes burning with the feeling of almost-tears.

"Fuck."