Independence Day
Title: Independence Day
Characters/Pairings: Squall, Seifer
Rating: G
Word Count: 532
Author's Notes: Squall POV. Post-game. Almost certainly the first part of a series.
Today, of all days, I think of him.
He comes to mind when I see the first firework in the sky, reflected against the glass of my bedroom window. I have sequestered myself here, locked the door with a code only I know, and refused to answer the persistence of well-meaning friends. Friends? Coworkers? After all this time I still don't know for sure.
Today is, of course, our Independence Day. Freedom from witches and corrupt politicians, or so we tell ourselves. Five years from the day when I put the point of Lionheart against her throat and leaned against the hilt just hard enough. A nice, clean line. Barely any blood. The death of an era.
I think of all the times he burned his fingers on sparklers because he wouldn't let them go. I think of the time he chased Zell with a roman candle, and how it ended with his best pants on fire and both of them sent to bed without dinner. I think of the last time I saw his face lit by the glowing flashes in the night sky, and how he'd changed so much, but barely any at all.
I saw him, once, in Esthar, almost two years ago now. His hair had grown and his favorite trenchcoat was nowhere to be found, but it was unquestionably him. I'd stopped when I recognized him, unsure of what to say, unsure that there were even words to be found. He stopped, too, with a look in his eyes that made my stomach clench and tears come to my eyes.
"Hey," he'd said, voice hoarse.
I'd done nothing but nod.
"No hard feelings."
I didn't know what to say, so I kept my silence. That damnable silence that always pushes everyone away.
"...Sorry," he muttered, and turned to walk away.
I reached out to stop him, but I couldn't. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I'd been right. There were no words.
I let him walk away.
That was the last time I saw him. The only time, after the war.
I'm older now. Wiser, maybe. I can see our fights for what they were: teenagers letting off steam. Petty rivalry between two people who can't accept that they're equals. I certainly didn't like him, but I never hated him. He pulled me out of my shell when nobody else could, and if it wasn't healthy the way he did it, it was less healthy for me to stay in my head the way I did. He was just a teenage boy doing what was normal. Rebelling. Hyne help him that it was taken as far as it was.
I can't help but turn my attention outward as the last pyrotechnic volley lights the night sky until it's as bright as day. The reverie that's been so long in coming finally arrives, not hitting me square in the chest as I expected, but settling in gently like something that I've known all along and forgotten.
I miss him.
My childhood bully, my wartime enemy, Ultimecia's Knight. He's none of those things now.
What is he?
I have to know.
After all, it's not just my Independence Day.
Characters/Pairings: Squall, Seifer
Rating: G
Word Count: 532
Author's Notes: Squall POV. Post-game. Almost certainly the first part of a series.
Today, of all days, I think of him.
He comes to mind when I see the first firework in the sky, reflected against the glass of my bedroom window. I have sequestered myself here, locked the door with a code only I know, and refused to answer the persistence of well-meaning friends. Friends? Coworkers? After all this time I still don't know for sure.
Today is, of course, our Independence Day. Freedom from witches and corrupt politicians, or so we tell ourselves. Five years from the day when I put the point of Lionheart against her throat and leaned against the hilt just hard enough. A nice, clean line. Barely any blood. The death of an era.
I think of all the times he burned his fingers on sparklers because he wouldn't let them go. I think of the time he chased Zell with a roman candle, and how it ended with his best pants on fire and both of them sent to bed without dinner. I think of the last time I saw his face lit by the glowing flashes in the night sky, and how he'd changed so much, but barely any at all.
I saw him, once, in Esthar, almost two years ago now. His hair had grown and his favorite trenchcoat was nowhere to be found, but it was unquestionably him. I'd stopped when I recognized him, unsure of what to say, unsure that there were even words to be found. He stopped, too, with a look in his eyes that made my stomach clench and tears come to my eyes.
"Hey," he'd said, voice hoarse.
I'd done nothing but nod.
"No hard feelings."
I didn't know what to say, so I kept my silence. That damnable silence that always pushes everyone away.
"...Sorry," he muttered, and turned to walk away.
I reached out to stop him, but I couldn't. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I'd been right. There were no words.
I let him walk away.
That was the last time I saw him. The only time, after the war.
I'm older now. Wiser, maybe. I can see our fights for what they were: teenagers letting off steam. Petty rivalry between two people who can't accept that they're equals. I certainly didn't like him, but I never hated him. He pulled me out of my shell when nobody else could, and if it wasn't healthy the way he did it, it was less healthy for me to stay in my head the way I did. He was just a teenage boy doing what was normal. Rebelling. Hyne help him that it was taken as far as it was.
I can't help but turn my attention outward as the last pyrotechnic volley lights the night sky until it's as bright as day. The reverie that's been so long in coming finally arrives, not hitting me square in the chest as I expected, but settling in gently like something that I've known all along and forgotten.
I miss him.
My childhood bully, my wartime enemy, Ultimecia's Knight. He's none of those things now.
What is he?
I have to know.
After all, it's not just my Independence Day.