Squall awoke to a small puddle of saliva stringing from his mouth to the pillow. He pulled away, wiping the fluid from his lips with the back of his hand. Sitting upright, he ran a hand through his hair to remove it from his line of vision. That entire encounter, the night before, was still on his mind. He wondered, as well, why he dreamed about his lost love; he hadn't done so in so long. Maybe his emotions were just overplayed or something. Standing, letting his thoughts roll off his back, he stretched. He looked down at his necklace, which was tangled and unruly. Squall sighed, beginning to untangle the piece of jewelry, while walking out of his room.

He begun walking toward the bathroom, but, upon hearing the shower, he decided to wait a bit. Aerith wouldn't be happy if he just barged in while she was showering, nor did he have a reason to just invite himself in. It's not like they were on a tight schedule, or anything. Squall smiled to himself as he untangled his chain; he then admired its sheen. He sat on the armrest of the couch, looking down at the carpet. Remembering he needed to vacuum, Squall retraced his steps down the short hallway. He checked the closets, and, checking the very last one he could possibly check, he found what he was looking for. The vacuum was old and outdated, but he supposed it did enough.

Lugging the old machine into the living room, Squall struggled to find a electrical outlet. Upon finding one, he plugged the duct taped cord into it. He begun vacuuming like a 'typical' man would: without any real path, and all over the place. He felt it was effective enough; he was surprised he was even doing this. He lifted up the couch with one arm, while using the other to vacuum underneath. This was all Aerith was getting out of him; he thought she would be proud, no matter how badly he had done. Shrugging, he unplugged the cord and raveled it poorly around the handle. He left the old vacuum in the living room while he walked slowly back into his room.

Removing his typical, everyday clothes (while keeping his Griever ring and necklace on), he found a pair of normal jeans in the closet. He couldn't remember where the jeans were from, or whose they were, but they fit. He put only one of his belts back on, and found a tight, form-fitting black shirt to replace his loose, white one. He didn't check in the mirror, for he didn't really care what he looked like, and folded up his old clothes, sitting them on his bed in a pile. He wasn't changing his image; he just decided he needed something more comfortable. Besides, he needed to wash his older clothes (badly). He put his shoes back on, and wrapped one of his remaining belts around his arm.

Squall walked back into the living room, swiping his gunblade off of the counter. He sat on the counter itself, grabbing a washcloth from the sink. He began polishing his beloved weapon, sighing in contentment.

"Yeah," he said, simply. He hopped down from the counter, leaving his blade there to sparkle in the artificial light. He swung the refrigerator open with a quick sweep of his right arm, peering into the slightly-empty food storage. Sighing, he whirled around to look at Aerith, who had maneuvered away from him. Was she angry? Nevertheless, he was hungry; "I want pancakes."

He slowly walked into the living room, plopping down onto the couch. He could now see her, and, for some reason, a light blush was spread across her cheeks. He decided not to think much of it; it may have been because she was in just a bathrobe. Kicking his legs up onto the couch, he turned his head to look directly at her.
"Do I need to go get anything in order to make them?"

He crossed his arms behind his head, remembering the girl's teary eyes and her helplessness. He remembered the warm embrace he gave her; it was something very rare.. special. He still wasn't sure why he held her, and he still wasn't sure why he wanted so badly to protect her. What he was sure of, though, was the fact he did want to protect her, no matter the cost.

Pursing his lips, he looked away from Aerith. He loved that hair of hers; it was so beautiful... An eyebrow arched as he pushed the thought from his mind. He awaited a reply from her in solemn silence, gathering himself to look at her once again.

"I'll eat as many as you can fix," Squall mused. He, then, picked himself up from the couch, walking over to her. He was on the other side of the counter, leaning over it, watching her furiously beat the ingredients. He was beginning to think she was angry at the food; not him. Oh well, anything was better than tension; especially if he was planning to hang around the house today.

He slowly reached onto the adjacent counter, pulling his weapon off of it, and he placed it on the ground beside the couch. Turning back around, he rested an elbow on the counter and his chin in his palm.

Squall was completely confused. He didn't know why he was lingering, nor did he know why she was acting oddly. His emotions were in a bunch; his thoughts were, as well. Something was bothering both of them, but Squall didn't know what was wrong either way. With a long sigh, he turned around. He leaned against the counter in the opposite direction, both elbows keeping him up.

"Aerith," he finally said. "What's going on here?"

He didn't know what he meant, honestly, but he hoped she could fill in the blanks. His mind was completely full of blanks, as well as his heart with holes.

"Nothing makes sense anymore."

"I don't know," he said, still facing the opposite direction. He sighed loud enough for her to hear, but no where near obnoxiously. He placed a hand on his face, tracing his scar with his index finger. He was being rather fidgety; that was for sure. Letting his hand fall away from his unusually calm visage, he spoke once more: "I don't mean to be how I am."

He felt the need, for some reason, to apologize for being himself. He knew he was no where near a 'gentleman', nor did he feel like he was a good friend. His vision trailed down to his boots, which looked rather odd against blue jeans. It seemed as if, even in his mind, he would rather be in a different conversation and state of mind. He immediately regretted bringing the subject up, but there was no turning back now.

He slowly buckled at his knees, lowering himself to the ground. He was now hidden from her gaze; even if she wasn't looking at him to begin with. Mulling over his thoughts, he let the back of his head rest against the partial wall of the counter. Running a hand through his hair like he usually did, Squall was at a loss for words. He knew there was something he needed to say, but for the life of him, he just couldn't come up with anything.

"I don't know what happened last night. I'm sorry if I confused you. You just seemed so... scared; so helpless..." he managed to lightly, quietly, nervously say to the girl across the room. The girl he had unnerving, completely new feelings for; the girl he wanted to impress, but didn't want to admit it to himself, Aerith.

Listening to her talk about last night's situation, Squall felt as if it were no big deal; like he was the only one that thought it was something to think about. Maybe he was blowing it out of proportion; maybe he was the only one thinking about it as something special. A sigh fell from his pale lips.

He slowly picked himself up from the floor, taking a whiff of the pancakes. A small smirk gave way, and he looked up at her. She mentioned Rinoa; he almost froze in his tracks. The smirk slid off of his lips, and he nodded to her. "You had a boyfriend?"

"Well," he began. "Her name's Rinoa Heartilly... Rinoa was... everything to me, really. I never had much of a family, and she always seemed to be there with the right thing to say. She was always really charming, in the sense she could make me do anything she wanted, no matter how much I hated it." Squall smirked to himself, thinking about the dance she pulled him into. "She was awfully stubborn, as well, but it made for good conversation; especially that awful look in her eyes when things didn't go her way. What I liked most about her, though," he continued, smiling. "Was her honesty. She was emotional, too, and didn't have a problem expressing her feelings. She was really special to me, Aerith."

He looked into the girl's eyes, then let them lower to his food. Grabbing a fork, he cut it up slightly. Squall poured some of the syrup onto the still steaming pancakes, popping a fraction of the food into his mouth. Eyes of blue were twinkling and a bit on the soft side as he looked back up at Aerith.

"I guess I should stop now," he said, sighing. "It's your turn."

"Maybe it's best this way," he said, staring down at his heap of pancakes, poking at them with his fork. "Not their loss, but talking about it. Both of us... we... we need closure." He never looked up at Aerith; he knew she was feeling the same way. Both of their hearts were aching. Squall knew, though, that it would end in healing. It would end the way it should.

They sat in a silence; for some reason, it wasn't awkward. Squall, as he looked up at her, brushed his hair away from his face. He couldn't help but notice how distraught she looked; just like the night before. A bit pale; eyes watery. She was composing herself, and for that, he was proud of her. Eyes of ocean blue locking with hers, Squall smirked a bit.
"Our losses, Aerith," he said with certainty. "Will not go away. They will, however, fuel us for the future; to live on for the people we lost. To live for the both, or, in your case, the lot of us. They'd want us to be happy; they'd want to be happy... so why not try to be?"

He knocked himself into a realization he'd never seen before. Rinoa was his fuel before, and, just because she was gone, didn't mean she wasn't anymore. He loved that glitter in her eye when he smiled, and he knew that she would still want him to do so. He knew that Rinoa would want him to move on, but still keep her in his heart. And, of course, he was more than willing to do so. His head dropped back down as he, seemingly, stared down at his food. His eyes were shut, though, as he remembered Rinoa... he wanted her, but he, definitely, couldn't have her anymore.

"There's someone out there, for the both of us, that can make us whole again."

Good thing he didn't have to answer her question; he didn't know, himself. Squall nodded to her as she began on her way to dress herself; he dug into his food in an animal-like fashion as soon as she left. Once he was full; only one pancake left, the man stood, stretching. He was confused about Aerith; just as much as he was confused with himself. Sometimes she seemed happy when he acted outside of his usual self; sometimes she just looked at him oddly. Either way, it was unnerving.

Squall Leonhart didn't want to change; he was, more or less, content with himself. His personality and point of views had gotten him thus far; why should he stop now? Aside from losing his best friend and lover, his life had gone uphill instead of down. Now, he was living with a beautiful girl in a town infested with evil, disgusting creatures. It could be better, but hey. At least he would develop a friendship along the way; possibly a great one.

He waited for Aerith to return, tapping his gloveless fingers on the counter. Used to being out and about, Squall was growing restless. He didn't know why he'd planned to hang around the house; there was, obviously, nothing to do.
"Aerith," he said, his voice returning to normal. "You wanna go out and aimlessly kill Heartless with me?"

Squall waited for the girl to finish doing her... girly things. Pampering and whatnot; Squall had no idea. He hated waiting for girls to get ready; they usually always ended up picking ten different things and stressing needlessly over it. With a sigh, he picked his weapon up, twirling it around a bit. He remembered almost breaking something a while ago, and promptly let his beloved blade rest at his side.

"I don't ever have plans," he said as she came out. He begun leading her out of the home. "I just like to make you think that."
Winking a bit, he shut the door as soon as she was outside with him, and he locked it. No one was going to get it, or so he thought, but it was just a habit; a safety measure.

The gunblade was resting on his shoulder, and he just stood, staring at her. Maybe that was why girls took so long. Aerith looked incredible; Squall was almost mesmerized. Being the man he was, though, he quickly and silently snapped out of his trance. The brown-haired, darkly-clad man let the tip of his blade rest on the ground for a moment.

"Where to? It's up to you."

He cleared his throat a bit as her mood seemed to eagerly change. Had she noticed his staring? She probably found it rude; he knew he, himself, did. Squall smirked a bit as Aerith went on about having him help her train; about needing a new weapon; about what district to go to.

"I could help you train," he mused. "But, first, let's go look for some new weapons."
He offered his gunblade to her with one hand, nodding to her.
"But I think something like this is a bit much for you; no offense."

The gunblade was heavy and, by no means, easy to use. It took a lot of practice and concentration; especially since you could as easily kill yourself with it as kill an enemy. He jingled the contents of one of his pockets, then pointing to the blade now in her hands.

"These are the bullets," he explained, showing her one. "I know you're not looking for something quite as heavy-duty, but most larger swords are gonna be just as heavy. We can, however-- Ah, what the hell? Let's go look around before I say anything more," he said, pointing in the direction of the weapons and supply store.

He was so predictable in where he rested his gunblade: on his right shoulder. Squall smirked a bit when she commented on his body; he'd always been at least a little proud of it. He'd be crazy if he weren't, though, right? As he was about to speak once more, Aerith threw him off with a chain-linking of limbs. A questionable look plastered on his face, Squall followed the girl along without an utterance.

When she said something about thanking him, Squall did nothing but chuckle. He, when she got done talking, then said: "I do believe you asked. Maybe not flat-out, but you hinted."
Again, he looked at her with a small smirk. Instead of keeping his vision locked on the girl, he looked ahead. It was awkward to walk with her in this fashion; they'd never gotten this close before (besides that night, of course). He wasn't sure what to make of it, but, in fear of him overplaying or thinking too much of it, he let it pass from his mind. He did know, though, that Aerith was responding positively to him being a little nicer. That was good, he thought.

As her head met his left shoulder, he got a good whiff of her shampoo. It smelled nice; it was the familiar scent of her. Every time that scent met his nostrils before, he could never place the familiarity. Now he could; that was a good thing, at least. Wasn't it?

Squall slightly maneuvered his head to look at her, his chin grazing her silky hair. He looked ahead almost immediately, clearing his throat a bit. A part of him, the unsure, emotional side, wanted to embrace her in return; possibly even carry her to their destination. Another part of him wanted to push her away and question her odd behavior. Instead, Leon stayed within a safe medium. He allowed her to hang on him, but he refused to return any kind of action. Something was battling him on the inside, and Squall didn't like the feeling. He loved control.

He was losing it; something was messing with his emotions.

"Alright, there it is," he nudged, seeing if Aerith would let go and run into the store as if she were a kid at a candy store, or... or if she would stay latched onto him. "We'll find something for you; I'm sure there's something you'll like."

((Mene ftw! Even over real life. xD))

Squall lingered in the background, somewhat trailing Aerith around the shop. He didn't want to be in her face and talking about what weapons he liked, yet he didn't want to completely walk off and leave her be. As far as Squall was concerned, no place was safe. No place.

He was, however, letting his gaze wash over the different kinds of weapons. Nothing stood out like his gun blade, though, unless it was laced with unnecessary jewels or accessories. One sword particularly stood out to the scar-faced man; he even reached out to run his finger along the blade. It cut him almost eerily; as if it were waiting for his blood. It was over-sized; it probably outweighed Aerith by a good bit.

The sword didn't hold Squall's interest for long (as nothing did), and he looked over to his friend. She seemed to be really focusing on what would be just right for her. Silently, he beamed in pride. He didn't know why, but he was proud of Aerith.

Running a finger over his blade, he decided he needed it sharpened.
"Aerith, I'll be right back. Have fun."
He walked to the cashier, asking if he would be willing to sharpen his beloved gun blade for free.

Soon, Squall began haggling for a price. The only reason the man wouldn't do it for free was.. Squall refused to set him up with Aerith. Squall, finally breaking down and paying 200 Munny, was angry and distrusting of the man with his blade alone. He, then, followed him to the back, watching the process.

"Be careful with it," Squall squeaked.

((Oooooopsies.))

Squall heard his name, even if only vaguely, but brushed it off. That was, until, he heard the door slam. He hopped over the sword sharpener (which was, obviously, more than dangerous). The cashier's eyes flew open wildly as Squall basically hopped over his head in a mad dash. The man threw the door to the back room open, scanning the store for Aerith.

There she was- at the door.

"What happened?" he said, walking around- instead of hopping over- the counter. He realized he'd hopped over two things for Aerith; why did he feel the need to be over dramatic? With a sigh, he approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You alright?"

The cashier's head popped out from behind the cracked door, and he uttered, "Everything okay out here?"
"I think so," Squall returned, nodding his head a bit. "Just go back to sharpening."
"Good idea."

Squall removed the hand from Aerith's slender shoulder, and he stepped back a bit. His arms, then, crossed, as if he didn't want to act too protective. It obviously didn't work, but he tricked himself to believe it. Something ticked Squall off about being so jumpy and protective over Aerith, but he liked to think of it as a guardian-type thing, rather than actually caring about her.

"Yeah, lead me to 'em," he said, relieved everything was okay. He heard a few mumbles coming from the back room; the cashier was, clearly, disgruntled. Squall payed no mind to him, nor would he ever, unless something happened to his beautiful gun blade.

She showed them to him; he was impressed. She had made the right choices. Squall knew Aerith would need something light and easy to maneuver, yet effective. He knew she would want something pretty, yet subtle. Squall nodded, picking up the umbrella-sheathed katana.

"I'm partial to this," he said, withdrawing the blade to inspect it. By no means was he an expert, but he did know the basics and he did know Aerith (to an extent). He withdrew it completely, making a fluid-motioned slice through the air. "The umbrella could be used for more than distraction, as well, I'm sure; depending on its sturdiness, of course."

Squall, then, hit the top of the parasol on the ground rather harshly, as if he were hitting a minor Heartless. It didn't splint, break, nor give in any way. A smirk spread across his thin lips, and he slid the blade back into the sheath. It made a satisfying click as it locked into place.

"Yeah, this one's really well made."