Squall realized he was more concerned about Aerith than any man should be over any woman. These were minuscule, common Heartless; why was he so worried? She could handle herself while he handled himself, right? His thoughts were cut in two while another Heartless shrieked in his ear.

Eyes of royal blue cut through the darkness as his gunblade cut through two of the small, beady-eyed Heartless. Squall let out an agitated yell, pulling the trigger on his blade, releasing a fiery ball of Heartless demise. Looking down at his own body, he remembered he wasn't wearing his usual attire. He never knew he could feel so odd fighting in something so.. casual; something so.. common.

Distracted by his attire, Squall hopped back just before a Heartless slashed him open. It did, however, catch hold of his shirt, which tore without any sign of struggle. Stupid clothes. At that moment, "Leon" decided he would do his laundry as soon as he arrived back at he and Aerith's abode.

Kicking, slashing, and grunting, Squall cut through the sea of Heartless and managed to clamber onto a roof near where Aerith was.
"Doing alright?" he yelled over the noise of the Heartless.

Instead of running, Squall grabbed the Heartless that was wailing. The rest were silent; most seemed like they had no idea how to make any type of noise. He heard Aerith hopping off without him, but he decided to not even turn around. It squirmed, writhing in his strong hold. He constricted its neck slowly, until it cried bloody murder and dissipated in his hold.

The other Heartless, then, sunk into the ground. Squall smiled, feeling rather accomplished. He ran his free hand through his hair, sighing rather loudly. Turning on his heel, he watched Aerith, still bounding off. Apparently, she hadn't noticed a majority of the Heartless had fled.

The silent Squall followed after her, running at full speed. As he approached, he moved more slowly and more quietly. Squall, making sure his gunblade was out of his way, tackled Aerith in midair. The two bodies hit the ground, Squall underneath. A corner of his mouth raised, forming a crooked, malevolent smile.

"Weren't expecting that, yeah?"

His smirk turned into a full-blown smile as she slapped him. It was amusing, her anger. He knew she wasn't angry with him, she was just startled. Pulling himself out from underneath her, Squall extended an arm to Aerith. He wiggled his fingers in her face, offering to help her up.

He noticed her wince a bit, deciding he would patch her up when they got home. Squall only had a knick or two on his arms and chest; not to mention that self-inflicted wound on the palm of his hand.
"Come on, stop complaining," he said, waving his hand at her once more. "We'll go home and eat, what do you say?"

"Uh..." Squall patted his back pocket, nodding. "Yeah."
He pulled the key out of the jean pouch, sliding the key into the lock, twisting it. The door creaked a bit, falling into the darkness of the house on its own. As Aerith continued giving him the cold shoulder, Squall was slowly falling back into his shell. He shook his head to rid the hair from his line of vision.
"After you," he said, standing out of her way.

Aerith took the offer, entering the house. He followed slowly, setting his gunblade on the kitchen counter. Scoffing, he looked over his once clean, shiny blade. Now it was soiled and disgusting. Deciding not to pay much attention to it, Squall walked down the hallway to his room. Peeling the tattered shirt from his body, Squall removed himself from his room quickly.

"You sure you're not hungry?" he asked, coming into her view, wrapping his own hand in a gauze-like bandage. He extended an arm at her; this time, a medical kit in his grasp.

Squall was just as- if not more- confused about the situation as Aerith was. She used to look sad when he wouldn't speak to her, much less even look at her, but now.. that he was paying quite a bit of attention to her, she seemed to hate him. The man decided it was his fault, but still wasn't sure why.

As she blew past him once more, his hand still holding onto the Kit, he let it drop onto the floor. He kicked it with his, now bare, foot, making sure it landed in front of the bathroom door. She was irritating him to the highest degree; he was taking it more seriously than he had before. Squall turned on his heel, retreating to his room to wait for the shower.

Squall removed the remaining attire from his muscular form, placing his jewelry on the dresser. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he ran his fingers through his slightly-greasy (due to minor sweating) brown hair. He sighed rather loudly, lying back on his unmade mattress.
'Dammit,' he thought to himself. 'What did I do wrong this time?'

Squall drowsily made his way out of the room, having fallen asleep while waiting for the shower to become vacant. He borrowed Aerith's brush, although she seemed to hate it when he did, and ran it through his coarse hair once or twice; just until it didn't make the tugging noises. He placed it back on the bathroom sink, turning around to venture into the living room. Some noise could be heard; it sounded like crackling. Fire?

Bingo! Rubbing his eyes with a balled-up fist, Squall yawned, walking over to the couch in hopes of plopping down on it. He slowly started to sit, immediately springing up upon noticing Aerith. Another night on the couch? She looked peaceful; not angry. He wondered what she was dreaming about, if she even was. Shaking his head, Squall put the fire out and exited the room.

Reentering the bathroom, Squall slowly removed his remaining articles of clothing, leaving them on the floor while he retrieved a towel. He aimlessly turned the knob that controlled the heat of the water, not checking if it was comfortable enough. Hopping in, the brunette doused his head in unbelievably cold water, retreating away from the water as quickly as he could. Tampering with the knob a bit more, Squall adjusted to the odd temperature of the water.

Concluding his shower session, which had consisted of about fifteen minutes and a glob of shampoo in his eye, Squall wrapped the towel around his lower half. He swept his clothes off of the tiled floor, tossing them into his room. He allowed his hair and body to continue to drip all over the carpet while he walked around the house. First, he checked to see if the fire was out; next, he started a pot of coffee; then, finally, he made it to his room to continue drying off. He dressed himself in a plain white t-shirt and a pair of black boxers.

He left his room, shutting the door quietly behind him, and entered the kitchen. He sat on the counter, holding a coffee mug in his right hand, waiting for his drink to be done.

Squall was staring into his mug, as if doing so would make the drink he was yearning for appear. It didn't. With a slightly annoyed- possibly bored- sigh, Squall tilted a bit to look in on Aerith. She was mumbling in her sleep again; all he heard was a giggle. What was going on in that dream of hers? He couldn't help but smile at her giggles, which weren't very common.

Startled by her approach, he hopped off of the counter and manned the coffee maker. He turned around quickly, looking at her in a nonchalant manner. As she smiled at him, he couldn't help but blush. Had she forgiven him in her sleep? What just happened?
"I'm fine?" he mumbled in confusion. 'Squally? Are you kidding me?'

He removed another coffee cup from the cupboard, glancing at her from over his shoulder. She still was staring at him, with a dreamy, odd smile plastered across her face. Was she trying to make him nervous? He poured a cup for Aerith, then one for himself. He crossed the small kitchen and placed both mugs in front of her, handing her a few sweeteners and a small cup of creamer.
"You're in a good mood," he said, looking down at his coffee.

((I'm gonna be gone for the weekend T_T byee))

((Aww. Have fun. ^^ Merry Christmas.))

((I watched Advent Children today. I was almost completely lost, but I did get a taste of Final Fantasy in general. Haha.))

"Yeah, they're doing well," he said, looking down as she stared at him. In a way, it unnerved him. Was she remembering why she was angry with him? "My cuts, I mean. They're not really a big deal, to be honest. How about you, Aerith-" he looked up at her, his blue eyes locking with her vivid blue-green ones- "How are you?"

He didn't know why he looked at her the way he did; nor did he know why he said that the way he did. Instead of keeping the stare between them locked, Squall looked down at his piping hot cup of coffee. He placed an elbow on the counter beside his cup, bending over to level himself. He placed his chin in his palm, still staring at the dark, bitter liquid.

He sighed, watching the steam rolling off of the liquid bend to his breath. Something about tonight was different; he wasn't quite sure what it was. He felt odd, like he wasn't himself. Something was nibbling at his heart... it was a feeling he remembered tying to Rinoa. Rinoa wasn't around so... so what was this feeling, and why was it haunting him?

((Good, I thought it was just me. I was like, "Holy crap, am I an idiot?")

Squall felt his stomach tighten a bit, and, his coffee in midair, he cleared his throat. Taking a long, quiet sip of the bittersweet liquid, he attempted to nod. Placing the mug back onto the counter, he stood straight, looking down at her.
'Is it just me,' Squall thought to himself. 'Or are things getting weirder by the second?'

Pushing a lock of his brown hair behind his ear (or attempting to), Squall took Aerith's mug, along with his own, to the sink. He walked back, his bare feet making an odd sound against the tile.
"To get to know each other, huh?" he repeated, crossing his arms over his thinly-clad chest. "That sounds alright, I guess. But-" he began walking toward his room to dress himself. "-I'm still the same Squall. Don't expect me to say much."
He flashed her a smile, his blue eyes seeming to twinkle just for her.

Shutting the wooden door behind him, Squall gathered his 'normal' clothes from the floor. He pulled a pair of black pants over his legs, tucking his white shirt into them. Four belts accentuated his waist- one to keep his pants up; three just for show. He pulled his short-sleeved jacket over his frame. Gloves, jewelry, and shoes were saved for last, and, surprisingly, Squall emerged from the room only about five minutes after entering.

"Ready?" he had on the same, stoic look he usually wore. "I'll go where ever you take me."

"Yeah, well.." he said, sighing. "I don't have much else to wear. I felt out of place in such... normal clothes, anyway. I think you and I, maybe we should go somewhere and buy some more."
He looked down at himself, flattening his shirt out with his hand, as if it would suffice for an iron. He didn't feel gross, even if he should.

"I have tons of munny that I haven't bothered to use since we got here, y'know, except for food and whatever else we may need," he said, his mood unchanging. He ran his hand through his hair, pausing his speech and motions for a few seconds or so. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go change. I'm bored."

He turned away from her, arms crossed, and leaned against the doorway. Assuming she had already walked away, Squall twirled the chain on his neck around his fingers, allowing it to wind around his index and middle. His brow furrowed as he stared at the silver lion emblem.. wasn't it supposed to stand for courage? Squall wasn't being courageous, and he knew it. Locking away your emotions didn't make you brave or strong; it made you seem cowardice.

Sighing, letting his thoughts out with a single breath, Squall let the chain fall back onto his muscular chest. He decided he wouldn't think about it anymore; it didn't matter right now. Right now, developing a friendship and having fun was important, not his pettiness.

He understood the signal, opening the door for her to exit first. There wasn't much of a need to lock the door, but it was a habit; a tendency. If something did happen, and he hadn't locked the door, he knew he would place the blame on himself. He knew his personality, no matter how much he longed to change it. Squall pulled the key from the lock, dropping his key into the pocket inside his jacket.

He walked slightly ahead of her, but he wasn't completely sure why he was doing so. Squall was a mystery to everyone, including himself. There never seemed to be anyone that completely understood him; not even his dearly departed Rinoa. Upon remembering Rinoa, he noticed Aerith's attire. A part of him ached, but the stronger, more sensible part of him didn't think much of it. Lately, he had been taking things way too seriously. If Rinoa's death had taught him absolutely anything, it was that life is way too short to dilly dally it away. ((Baha, I remembered Advent Children))

Pushing his hair out of his face, he slowed his long, fluent strides to allow Aerith to catch up with him.
"It's weird, you know," he finally spoke up. "That we have something so disgusting in common and we never talk about it."
His heart made him say it, and, being Squall, he regretted it fully as it exited his thin lips. He wasn't sure what Aerith would think of this random comment, but he was hoping she wasn't being as complex about it as he was.
"This whole situation is weird," he concluded.

Glad the shop came into view quicker than he expected, Squall nodded, following after Aerith. He was confusing, wasn't he? With his random babble and frequent mood swings, Squall was, obviously, a difficult person to grow to love; let alone, like. Brushing his thoughts off once again, for fear of saying something stupid, Squall entered the shop after Aerith had. He mulled over the last few days in his mind, and how much he had transformed. He was beginning to frighten himself; no one should change so quickly.

A sigh escaped him as he let his eyes trail around the shop. It was plain, but, in a completely different way, it was out there. Some of the styles made him want to gag, while others he could see himself wearing. That's how he liked people: versatile. He couldn't wait to see what the shopkeeper looked like and what she would dress he and Aerith in.

Squall was in for a large surprise when the shop owner emerged from the back room. He turned on his heel to look at, what he expected to be, a female.
'Whoa, it's a guy,' Squall thought to himself. Squall was, by no means, close-minded or prejudice, but he noticed that he got hit on by homosexual men a lot more than he did from straight women. This fact irked him, and he hoped the clerk wasn't going to be extra touchy-feely with him. That's understandable, yes?
"Hey," Squall said. "We're, uh, apparently here for a change in style."
"Oh, and you need it," the Clerk said, looking at Squall up and down. "It's not bad, I guess, if you're going for dark and gloomy-" he looked at Aerith. "Oh, I remember you. Here with your boyfriend now?"

There it was again, that word. Boyfriend.