Frozen

Squall x Bartz
"Stop and Stare" OneRepublic

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Stuck in place with confusion and frustration surrounding him, he knows only that theoretically his feet are frozen to the ground. Thoughts of doubt and insecurity continuously plague the young man's mind as he strides through the town, struggling to get back to his apartment before the snow begins to fall once more. The faux fur lining the collar of his short jacket brushes against his slightly flushed cheeks. His short brown hair does no good to keep his ears warm while the bangs, that sweep to the sides of his face, refuse to stay tucked behind his ears and fall back into his stormy blue eyes. The snow still littering the sidewalk crunches underneath his heavy boots, his tread slowing to a walk. Jeans, that aren't in the least bit warm, cling to his legs with belts slung over his hips for no real purpose except for appearance.

He'd just come back from service about a few days ago. His roommate wasn't there when he arrived at their apartment; something about visiting another friend … or something. He didn't care … or so that's what he tells himself that is. Though as he walks he finds himself thinking otherwise. Bartz is a man of purpose and has gone so far with his life in the three years that he's been slaughtering men in a pointless war. College, a steady job, and perfect health are all going for Bartz and what does he have?

Weary limbs, trained senses, and hands forever stained with the blood of his "enemy".

Squall sighs as he walks up the steps to the door of their apartment. In his eyes he'd gone no where in life. He'd taken the easy route out and now it was catching up to him. He didn't have a degree in anything, nor a job for income, not even a relationship with someone he cared about. Well, besides the brunet that he shared a residence with. But after all this time he could only assume that they would still remain friends if nothing else.

The door slams shut behind him as he slings his jacket onto the hook on the wall. He stomps over to the couch and slouches down against the old, musty gray cushions. The white v-neck on his lean torso slides up on his skin as he does, showing off his toned waist and arms. Angry with himself is an understatement at this point in time. No, Squall is pissed. This isn't where he wanted to be in life.

He simply stares at the blank TV screen, not completely sure if he wants to dare turn it on. Loud noises still caused him to internally jump and paranoia seems to always prick at him even when his mind is reeling. The after effects of being a soldier. Squall knows he'll never shoo the memories away nor wash the blood of innocent bystanders from his hands.

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, daring to fall, but he instantly blinks them away as the door opens and laughter flutters into this dreary residence. "Yeah, yeah I'll call you tomorrow Zidane." chuckles the voice from the entryway. Squall cringes slightly at the name of Bartz's other friend. He could only assume that they had gotten close in his absence.

Bartz's slim, muscular build strides into the living room where Squall sits. He stops and tilts his head to the side, short brown tresses grazing over his cheekbones. Gray eyes flicker over the other brunet with slight worry at his hunched position. "Squall … are you okay?"

Squall can only seem to stare as Bartz walks closer to the couch. Legs, clad in tight fitting, black and white striped pants, brushing against his own weary legs. A blue drop earring dangles from each earlobe to match the light blue shirt that rests under a black and white jacket. The colors in his attire go perfectly with his multicolored boots which he left at the door, only wearing thin black soaks now.

The twenty-four year old reaches out for Squall's hand, taking it in one of his own. "Did something happen over seas?"

Squall could only scoff, "That's a stupid question."

Scowling at the twenty-one year old Bartz yanks his hand away and jolts up from where he had been sitting. He hadn't expected the other to be colder than usual and it hurt him. "I'm going to bed."

He sits like a stone as Bartz goes down the hall and shuts his door with a loud click. He should have gone after him and apologized. Out of everyone, Squall knows that he cares, probably the only one too. With the dead of silence surrounding him, Squall can hear the gentle click of the light being turned off and the pressing of buttons on an alarm clock.

Sick of watching life pass him by Squall shoves himself to his feet and dashes back to Bartz's room. He swings the door open and kneels onto the bed beside the curled form. Bartz reaches over to his bedside table and flicks the lamp on, staring up at Squall in confusion.

"I'm not okay. I want to keep moving but I can't. I can't even think straight!"

Bartz smiles up at him and lifts his hands to the sides of Squall's face. "See, that wasn't so hard to admit." Shaking his head in Bartz's grasp, Squall lies down beside him, there pale eyes locked together. "Only one problem. You have got to take off all those belts or I refuse to let you sleep in my bed." Bartz pecks at Squall's lips as his fingers reach down and begin to unbuckle the many nuisances.

As the last belt is slung out from under the sheet Bartz lets his arms wind around Squall's waist and pull him close. "We'll just have to warm your cold feet and get you moving again."

Squall leans his head against the old gray shirt on Bartz's chest. As soon as he knows the other is drifting into a deep sleep he lets a smile curve his lips as he whispers into the soft material, "I love you Bartz."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

^^ Uke!Squall~ How I love thee! Okay. I love this pairing, period. Dissidia made it so more apparent in my eyes that it wasn't even funny. So of course I had to write this. :D Not to mention I love the song I used as inspiration.

Sooo, thoughts?