Author's Notes: I always say this, and I will repeat myself yet again: I have been dead—just… completely brain dead. I also lost my zip-drive, onto which I had saved all work I have done in the past few months. It kills me not to have it. Bummer. I've been craving to write for awhile, and when I heard I Will Follow You into the Dark for the umpteenth time, I knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate unless I wrote something. Hopefully, you'll enjoy my kooky story as much as I do!

Overall Rating: NC-17.

In Catholic School, as vicious as Roman rule,
I got my knuckles bruised by a Lady in black.
And I held my tongue as she told me,
'Son, fear is the heart of Love,'
So I never looked back.

The air, heavy from the peculiar mix of cleaning agents' mists and the stench of oppression, settled over the auditorium. Professors lined the large enclosure, eyes trained dedicatedly on the suffocating audience in front of them. The two hundred or so teenaged students tried their best to sit still and endure the grueling seminar; alas, even the threat of receiving a month's worth of detention was not enough to deter their fidgeting. At least a fourth texted endlessly to others in the hall and another third had slipped on their earphones if only to drown out the slightly disturbing speech drawled out by a portly octogenarian on stage.

But really, what else could be expected? Yes, the dramatic rise in sexual activities amongst the junior and senior classes—as well as the related increased risk of sexually transmitted infections—was of utmost importance. Both the parents and teachers called for action, and even the students agreed that something should be done to increase awareness of the potential dangers of "hooking up" and any other kind of intimate activity. However critical it was to raise awareness, having the aged principal stand up before the school's eldest classes and speak… about sex… was not the way to deal with the problem. Nothing about her was fit for this presentation: her stiff black dress complimented her muffed voice too precisely; her bare, shockingly pale legs and arms nauseatingly contrasted her cheap, magenta blush. The hooligans she ordered about on a daily basis could deal with her bimonthly announcements with an amazing amount of tolerance—but an entire hour (after school!) devoted to sex? To give her some credit, she might have been able to pull it off if only she had talked genuinely to the six-, seven- and eighteen-year-olds, speaking as though she were a savvy and knowledgeable grandmother who was simply concerned about her beloved kin. Unfortunately for both her audience and her reputation as a competent leader, her mind was stuck in the 'olden times when candy was only a single munny piece and censorial conservatism reigned.

"…and I know there is no need to explain any further what happens after that point: by now, you have taken at least two years worth of Health and Sexual Education and already understand the mechanical processes of intercourse." The purportedly limited edition Parsifal Pink lipstick she bought on a whim at the pharmacy had begun to dry up the second she began her speech, and now her tongue quickly seeped out from between her teeth to moisten her thin lips. The subtle yet disturbing action was noted by all who still paid her attention, causing another quarter of the teens to shiver and lapse into a comatose state of absentmindedness.

"As I have discussed extensively at the beginning of this assembly, no one here should ever find themselves in this position—not until you are of a mature enough age to understand what it means to give consent. However much I (or any other superior, for that matter) preach the benefits of abstinence until marriage (of which there are many), you all, an entire generation of"—She harshly sucked in her next word, sinners, before it left her mouth, knowing it would anger the students' parents if she spoke the truth about their so-called precious darlings—"youth who want to act twice their age, could never commit to such a difficult, yet noble, vow. That is why your teachers, parents and I have written up a few modest guidelines that you can follow to keep your body, mind and spirit safe. One…"

There was no end to Lady Ifrit's words. No relief. No salvation. Only an endless drone of exceedingly irritating suggestions laced with an obvious bias toward the speaker's moral beliefs.

Yet, of the remaining five twenty-fourths of the audience that somehow still managed to absorb and retain the principal's speech, one listened with an especial amount of attentiveness. Sitting in the last row in the last seat, he was flanked by an aisle on his left and his best friend on his right (actually, his friends filled the entirety of this row but he always felt it important to distinguish the brunet he shared an armrest with as… different from the rest). His pine green eyes pointedly watched the woman talking as if he alone was being addressed. On his lap rested a used and yellowed notepad, onto which he scribbled notes when he found something particularly interesting (if the word "interesting" could even be used in this situation).

Beside him, movement accompanied a jaded sigh. The teen continued his steady stream of listening and jotting down random phrases until he received a harsh jab to his side. Looking around to make sure no teachers would catch him speaking, he turned to his companion and seethed, "Yes, Sora?"

Not at all taken back by his friend's snippy tone, Sora smiled and lightly poked the other boy's writing hand. "Calm down. You look like your face is about to implode from contemplation, concentration, or maybe… constipation?"

"Very witty."

"Just relax, Riku. It'll all come to pass in"—the brunet glanced at the ancient clock hanging on the back wall, making a face when he saw the time—"another thirty minutes."

The now identified Riku shook his head, knowing he should get back to taking notes. As the writer of "Life as a Paradox: Musings from Saint Yunalesca's Lone Liberal," the school newspaper's only editorial column with its own cult following, he had a duty to cover potentially politically heated and morally bigoted events. Although (contrary to his column's title) there were plenty of students who swung left, Riku was the only one whose political stance had been "outed," and the burden of dealing with the many, many, conservatives in the school was a fate Riku wouldn't wish onto anyone. So, no matter how much time and energy he wasted in keeping his articles fresh, he had an obligation. Besides, this assembly was too good an opportunity to miss. An entire ten minutes devoted to abstinence, and another five to the routine "Wait until you're married" spiel? Lady Ifrit's speech was practically a droll goldmine; an editorialist's wet dream.

However, with Sora's presence came much distraction—not to say that the brunet wasn't supportive of Riku's endeavor. The spunky teen could often be seen helping propagate the liberal love amongst Saint Yunalesca's captives—ergh, students. It's just… to Riku, Sora was distractingly… distracting. And no matter how… distracting Sora was, Riku could never distance himself from the brunet, or even Kairi, for that matter. How could he? Although it had been years since his mother… since the… the… Even years later, Riku would never forget his friends' absolute dedication to helping him through it all. Sora was especially kind: even if he was in the middle of something, the brunet would come running if Riku needed him; and whenever his father had to work overtime at the clinic, Sora would always let Riku come over. Without Sora's support, where would Riku be? It scared Riku to think about the answer to that question…

Riku mentally shook his head, understanding that his thoughts were leading him to a dark place. "I really need to pay attention."

"Please! You have enough there for at least an article and a half. Besides, all she's doing now is reading from the list the health teachers wrote and the Student Government approved. And as the best secretary the Stud Gov has had since forever, I made sure to get a copy before it left the office. I'll send it to you tonight."

Riku smirked: typical Sora, always so efficient when it came to the most random of things. "I was kind of hoping to hear it from Ifrit. Knowing her, she might 'accidentally' forget to say something."

"Impossible. She has to read it all, exactly as we okayed it. But since you're being such a stickler today, you can borrow my hardcopy. Don't lose it." The brunet dug through the book bag at his feet. Taking out a clear, green folder neatly labeled "STUD GOV," Sora handed Riku the guideline for sex safety before turning to the redheaded girl (Kairi, the two boys' female best friend) who sat on his other side. Riku immediately felt a bit guilty for being so impatient with Sora, momentarily considering giving in and spending the rest of the assembly joking around with his friends—but Riku had a duty! A responsibility!

Riku brushed some of his sleek, white bangs away from his eyes as he began to read the two double-sided pages. The text, marked up in red pen, was legible, but it quickly became clear why Sora did not originally offer it to Riku: along the side were several of Sora's beastly doodles full of sharp angles and disproportional limbs. Riku bit back a chuckle, knowing that his friend would throw a fit if Riku laughed at his infamously clumsy drawings.

Trying his best to ignore the scribbles, Riku focused on the guidelines. Always use protection and lubrication (Thankfully, Riku missed Lady Ifrit reading that one aloud; just the thought of her uttering the word lube was enough for the fair-haired teen to consider never having sex again… ever). Have yourself and your partner tested before engaging in sexual activities. Avoid casual sex with strangers. A blow job is still sex. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Riku was somewhat surprised how much he approved of the list; that is, until he read a note Sora wrote next to a ghastly rendition of a smiley face: "Paradox Power!" A burst of (healthy) conceit ran through the teen. There was no way the note did not relate to his column, which meant that Riku was actually inspiring change! Riku managed to contain his glee successfully until he reached the final bullet point.

"Are you kidding me?" Riku gasped uncharacteristically, earning him at least one teacher's glare.

Kairi leaned forward to get a better view of Riku. "What's wrong?"

Riku was speechless, making Sora giggle in his barely masculine way. The paper transferred from the fair-haired teen's hands to Kairi's, and in a matter of a few seconds, the redhead's shock was equal to that of Riku.

Smiling triumphantly, Sora took back the guideline sheets and placed them in their proper, green folder. "I knew you guys would get a kick out of Clause Twenty-one, or, as Stud Gov has affectionately deemed it, the 'Queer Testament.' QT for short."

"This is absolutely amazing," Riku chuckled briefly, breaking his omnipresent stoicism for such a joyous occasion. Albeit forced, Lady Ifrit was going to address something completely out of her little conservative bubble! This was huge, for both the queer community in the school and the underappreciated minority sects (including but not limited to liberals) within Saint Yunalesca.

"QT?" Kairi repeated slowly. "Like C-U-T-I-E cutie?"

"Let me guess, Sora, you came up with that one?"

"Actually," Sora replied, "Tidus did."

"Oh, right," Riku remarked, poking Sora's forehead. "You aren't nearly clever enough to come up with something like that."

Milking the playfully said insult for all it was worth, Sora melodramatically gasped, pouted, and turned to the redhead. "Isn't he so mean, Kairi? How does he even have friends?"

"I think he puts something in his shampoo."

"His hair does have an unnaturally clean scent to it. But would it be enough to make us forget about his cruelty?"

Even as Sora spoke of his alleged wickedness, Riku shifted his right arm so his elbow no longer shared the armrest with the brunet's forearm. His fingers blindly reached out, the tips grazing against the brunet's palm before falling limp. The action went largely ignored, but definitely not unnoticed, by Kairi, who left the brunet's question unanswered as she turned to chat with whoever sat to her right. Because there was no immediate reaction to his touch, unnamed insecurity effervesced within the fair-haired boy's extremities, which Riku did his best to dispel with a heaving inhale. Just as he was about to retract his hand, Sora's noticeably shorter fingers intertwined with Riku's before pulling both hands off of the armrest to between their knees.

Sora relaxed, slumping in his seat with a succinct smile on his lips, but he never met Riku's eyes, instead settling his gaze toward the stage. The fair-haired teen did his best to ignore this fact and just enjoy the warmth of the other's hand against his, but a creeping sense of rejection stirred within Riku, as it always did. Because, although Sora would occasionally allow Riku to hold hands, run fingers through his russet strands, hug, or even offer a chaste kiss (after making sure absolutely no one was around to witness it), the two were not a couple.

And the list went on, and on, and on. The eighty-two-year-old surprised herself a bit: even in her youth, even in private, even in her youth in private, she would never have said half of the things typed so officially on the pile of notes in front of her. Imagine her, Lady Bertha Drambuie Ifrit, the great-great-great-great-granddaughter of Sir Jacques Ifrit of Spira's Twelve Noble Guardians, describing the dangers of not disinfecting one's sex toys!

As she reached Clause Twenty-one, the woman's watery eyes flashed to the watch hanging precariously on her wrist. There was not enough time to finish the list and say the entirety of her concluding statement. She felt beyond relieved, and the slight smirk that appeared on her lips caused a series of wrinkles to crease one side of her mouth. Shuffling the papers on her pedestal so the page with her conclusion was on top, she told her audience about the "unfortunate" situation before quickly continuing onto the ending paragraph. (Even she, the presenter, could not wait for this ridiculous event to be done and over with.)

But before she could get a complete sentence out, from the corner of her eye, she saw, and heard, shuffling from several students in the back row, and even a false cough calling for attention. Interesting enough, there was a hand raised from the same area. The teachers who saw the student were staring at her expectantly, waiting to see just how she would handle herself. As the principal of Saint Yunalesca, the best school on all of Destiny Islands, she had a reputation to keep. She had to appear strict but considerate, firm yet manageable, to make sure the parents would continue to send their children—and with them, tuition money—there. So, despite her better judgment, she called, "In the back." Within an instant, several of her pupils regained just enough consciousness to turn around in their seats. "I felt like I made myself perfectly clear, but if you do have a question, feel free to ask it. I will do my best to answer."

The boy stood up rapidly but awkwardly (it seemed as though another student next to him was attempting to keep him seated). Lady Ifrit could barely see the teen's face, but for some reason, she had the feeling she knew who he was. Due to the strict uniform policy (white shirt, blue plaid pants and tie for the boys; white shirt, blue plaid tie, and the option of either a plaid skirt or pants for the girls), only a tuft of white hair on his head gave some clue as to who it might be. There were only three or so upperclassmen that had such an unusual hair color, which must have been why she vaguely recognized him, even from a distance.

Much to the old woman's chagrin, the brunet student next to the boy kept the latter distracted, tugging on the standing teen's shirt. The two seemed to be bickering—or, in more accurate terms, wasting Lady Ifrit's precious time. Out of sheer curiosity, many students began turning in their seats to see who dared to interrupt the old woman's speech. Sucking on her teeth—all of which were real—Lady Ifrit sharply coughed, "If you have a question, ask it or please sit down, young man."

Several snickers reverberated throughout the auditorium, getting the white-haired boy's attention. He turned away from the other. "Lady Ifrit," he queried with voice determined and true, "do you mind offering some suggestions to the lesbian, gay, bi and queer students in your audience?"

With his one line, not only had Lady Ifrit identified the young man, but the teen had managed to retrieve the attention of all of his peers as well. A collective murmur reverberated throughout the auditorium as Lady Ifrit's emotions flared from momentary amusement, to exasperation, to irate irritation, to, finally, unadulterated incensement. Of course, of course, Lady Ifrit called on him. That troublemaker. That rebel. That… liberal who found his way into her school. That… damned Riku Amano.

Her clammy tongue ravaged her ever-drying lips once more, smearing her lipstick until it was barely noticeable, before replying (as calmly as she could), "Mister Amano, I do not feel it necessary, or proper, to single out any group of the student body. The guidelines are vague enough to apply to any couple, whether it is made up of a boy and a girl, or any combination otherwise. Now, if you may sit down and allow me to continue…"

Next to Amano, the brunet (who Lady Ifrit knew must have been that sweet-tempered, but equally bothersome, Hikaru boy) tried to pull his friend into his seat, but was greatly unsuccessful. "Excuse me," Amano called, and the aged principal could now distinctly recognize the distaste written in the teen's voice. "I really do not think that your queer students would mind being specifically addressed. I think they would prefer it."

"Well," Lady Ifrit snapped, causing the students who had been whispering to stop and the teachers who had remained indifferent to begin shuffling up and down the aisles in uncertainty. "If they want to be addressed, then they can speak up for themselves. Until then, sit down, Mister Amano!"

He hadn't meant to, and he certainly hadn't planned it. He would have never, ever let have it happen like that if he had had a choice.

But, at that moment, all that was on Riku's mind was a strange, deadening sound that drowned out all noise around him. It entered his ears, sheared the tiny bones hidden within before diving deeper, and deeper, and deeper, and deeper until he felt like shouting. And he did shout, if only to tell Lady Ifrit—as well as the entirety of the junior and senior classes—that he was gay and he would greatly appreciate hearing what she had to say concerning how his fellow queer classmates could keep themselves safe.

He would have never publicly exposed such a private matter purposefully.

He was just so livid, so aghast.

It was people like her who scared Sora and kept him hesitant; who made Sora think that it would be better to stay something akin to affectionate friends. It was people like her who made Riku's life incomplete; who made Riku's happiness always just within reach.

He should have just let Sora pull him down into his seat.

But—honestly—Riku was done with surrendering.

Lady Ifrit, lips pursed, thumbed the edge of the page she was reviewing. She felt Amano's calculating eyes bore into her. In a few years, his glare might be extremely intimidating; but for now, he was a mere teenager trying to seem more significant than he actually was. It was so… sad, and desperate. In her many years, Lady Ifrit had seen the same quasi-smug, quasi-fearful face plastered on so many students. Some part of her had hoped Amano would not be as cliché as the rest, but what more could she expect from a child.

Placing the page into the open manila folder on her desk, Lady Ifrit straightened up in her seat. "Do you know why you are here, Amano?"

The fair-haired teen blinked absently and began to lightly tap his foot against the worn, wooden floor.

"Well?"

Still, no response.

"Do not play games with me, boy."—Amano flinched at the condescending tone the woman used—"I am willing to have you sit here until you give me an appropriate answer."

Refusing to completely subdue the rebellion in him, Amano tilted his head, asking through clenched teeth, "Can you repeat the question? I was not paying much attention before." He paused before adding, "Sorry, ma'am."

"Do you, Mister Riku Amano, know why I brought you to my office?" The teen considered the query, and after a brief moment, he opened his mouth to speak. But before any words fell out from between his lips, Lady Ifrit interrupted. "If you dare to be smart with me from now on," she threatened, shaking a knobby finger at him, "I will give you two month's worth of detention and strip you of any and all privileges I see fit."

Instantly, Amano translated the second half of Lady Ifrit's warning; by privileges, she could only mean attending prom and/or the graduation ceremony, both of which were too precious to him to miss. The aged woman felt a minute smirk come across her mouth as Amano, defeated, muttered, "I lost my temper and caused a disruption during the assembly."

The aged principal nodded slowly. "Good boy."—Yet again, the teen bristled at her tone—"Now, do you have anything to say about your… disruption?"

"I apologize for my misbehavior. It will not happen again."

"Good, good. Good," she repeated again with an especial amount of antagonism. "As you are well aware of, Mister Amano, Saint Yunalesca has a reputation of nurturing some of the most brilliant minds in all of Spira. We employ only the best teachers, equip the classrooms with only the latest technology, and expect nothing less than excellence from every student. Why, just last year, over half of the graduating class left Destiny Islands to attend the most distinguished of universities. But intelligence is only a part of what makes Yunalesca superb. Our students have dedication, respect, camaraderie, and, most importantly, heart. They must excel not only as intellectuals, but as individuals with individual talents and dreams. We want to encourage anyone and everyone who comes through the threshold of the school; why else would we offer so many different classes, clubs, and sport groups?"

"I am sorry to interrupt, Lady Ifrit, but I am not sure why you are telling me this. As you can see from my record"—he held out his hand toward the papers she had been previously looking at—"I am one of the highest scoring students in my grade. I also have plenty of extracurricular activities, including…"

"I know all about your extracurricular activities. Hardly a year on the swim team and the coach and all your teammates consider you to be the honorary captain. You also are part of the yearbook committee, the prom organizing committee, the drama club and," she paused pointedly, "the school paper." The teen noted the emphasis with a frown. "Yes, Amano, you sure use your time productively. And you are doing exceptionally well… considering all you have been through."

Amano tensed, his eyes flashing away from her face for the first time in their conversation. The movement caused the old woman to stop mid-thought, giving the teen an opportunity to ask, "Lady Ifrit, do you mind me asking where you are going with this conversation?"

The aged principal was taken back by the question, or, rather, the tone the boy used to ask it. In what must have been less than a minute, all the rebellion that had laced Amano's speech deflated into plain exhaustion. She almost commented on the abrupt change when realization came over her. The boy was… genuinely upset. Instantly, the woman's own aggression waned. Yes, she was frustrated with the boy because he was constantly criticizing her conservatism in his column; and yes, he had made a huge disruption in her assembly. But… Amano was not like the other hooligans that she needed to show "tough love" to. Unlike them, Amano met hostility with an equal amount of enmity. And… more importantly, maybe he deserved some compassion. Maybe…

She stood up, an action which was so unexpected that Amano jumped in his seat. His eyes trained on her, Lady Ifrit walked to the other side of her desk. She leaned up against the table's wooden edge. There was only a foot between the boy and the woman, and the proximity definitely unnerved the former. In a voice too gentle to be hers, Lady Ifrit said, "Mister Amano, I know that you have the potential to be great. As you said, you get excellent grades; you participate in many of school activities; and not including this… incident, you have no reports of misbehavior. From the very beginning, you have proved yourself to be a remarkably resilient person. After your mother died"—

"Lady Ifrit…"

—"the entire staff was concerned about you. It just seemed so unfair that such a tragedy should befall on one of the most promising of our students. We were prepared to cushion your grades and give you leniency"—

"Lady Ifrit, don't…"

—"on every assignment. But you surprised us all with your perseverance. You managed all your grief and put it into energy to surpass everyone's expectations. That was years ago. Now you face another trying time." She reached out and clutched onto the boy's hand. The touch startled Amano, who tried to pull away but was too… distracted to free his hand. "Amano—no, Riku, I understand that you have been through so much pain and confusion"—

"Please s—stop."

—"and now you are afraid that you may have changed more than you can handle. I've read enough of your columns to know that a part of you is terrified of what is to come. But just because you are unsure of yourself, do not make errors in judgment. Do not give up on what is good and moral."

The teen, face clenched as he held back all the emotions brought up by the woman's speech, combed his fair hair with his free hand. Just as Lady Ifrit was about to let go of his hand, Amano said, "I don't understand. How am I 'giving up on what is good and moral?'"

Lady Ifrit sighed, and bent down so her eyes were level with Riku's. "Although I may not always show it, I believe that you are more just and good than most of the students here, even if I do not agree with your political views. And because I believe in you, I do not want to just let you be coerced down the wrong path. Do not let your insecurity and fears lead you into a life of sin, Riku."

Without a second of delay, the teen's face contorted into a mix of fury, abhorrence… and hurt. "Lady Ifrit, I think I am misunderstanding you. Are you honestly saying that my being…" the teen half demanded, half whimpered, "my being… the kind of l—love I feel for another individual of the same sex is immoral and a mere product of my s—supposed fears?"

Remembering herself, Lady Ifrit offered only a simple, "What I may or may not have said is not of importance. I only want you to be sure of yourself before you make any more rash decisions." With that, the woman let go of the boy's hand and stood upright again.

After a moment of deadening silence, Amano asked, "May I leave?"

To which Lady Ifrit replied, "Yes. We're done here."