FFVIII: Twist
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Seifer/Squall
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Seifer's trying not to think of him. For fated_children.
She's inside his head again. He knows it. He leans back against the wall and stretches his legs and laughs out of his desert-dry mouth, laughs until the sound bounces off all the walls. He sounds mad. He's not sure he isn't. He's trying not to think about all the things he doesn't want her getting her dirty hands on -- the few precious memories he has left of his childhood, of when she wasn't her but simply Matron, of when the others were as likely to play with him as they were to spurn him.
He feels his grip on it slide and he pushes her away from those memories with all he's got, trying to focus on something else. He never thought it'd be so hard not to think, not to remember. He'd've said Zell did that all the time.
Zell. Those memories were funny when they weren't tinged with darkness. Sometimes she'd make him see himself as low, disgusting -- sometimes she'd twist it the other way and he'd be doing the world a favour, bullying Zell. Now, well, he knows it was stupid and not fair and just funny. Raijin and Fujin --
He pushes the memories of them away from him, too. It's better he thinks of them than he thinks of him -- dark hair and steely eyes and a determined, sure touch -- but he doesn't want her to turn him against them, either.
"You fucking lose," he says, softly. For a moment he lets himself think of him, of Squall -- and then he stops, and thinks instead that he's cold and he needs to fix his trenchcoat, and he doesn't let her in.
Pairing: Seifer/Squall
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Seifer's trying not to think of him. For fated_children.
She's inside his head again. He knows it. He leans back against the wall and stretches his legs and laughs out of his desert-dry mouth, laughs until the sound bounces off all the walls. He sounds mad. He's not sure he isn't. He's trying not to think about all the things he doesn't want her getting her dirty hands on -- the few precious memories he has left of his childhood, of when she wasn't her but simply Matron, of when the others were as likely to play with him as they were to spurn him.
He feels his grip on it slide and he pushes her away from those memories with all he's got, trying to focus on something else. He never thought it'd be so hard not to think, not to remember. He'd've said Zell did that all the time.
Zell. Those memories were funny when they weren't tinged with darkness. Sometimes she'd make him see himself as low, disgusting -- sometimes she'd twist it the other way and he'd be doing the world a favour, bullying Zell. Now, well, he knows it was stupid and not fair and just funny. Raijin and Fujin --
He pushes the memories of them away from him, too. It's better he thinks of them than he thinks of him -- dark hair and steely eyes and a determined, sure touch -- but he doesn't want her to turn him against them, either.
"You fucking lose," he says, softly. For a moment he lets himself think of him, of Squall -- and then he stops, and thinks instead that he's cold and he needs to fix his trenchcoat, and he doesn't let her in.