Final Fantasy VIII: Seifer Almasy/Squall Leonhart, regret
Title: Outside
Author: twilightsrain/edenbound (ficjournal)
Theme: Regret
Rating: PG
Seifer stands just outside Garden. He can sense the wariness of the gate guards, the sleeping hostility that just waits for him to make a wrong move. He’s not even sure why he's there: it's not like he can change anything by returning to the place where it all began, and everyone hates him here anyway. There's nothing he can do and he doesn't want to do anything.
He came here because Squall did -- followed him home at a slower pace, like a dog slowly coming to heel. He always has been a lapdog, he thinks, smiling ruefully. The sun glints in his hair as he tips his head back to look all the way up to the top of Garden, in all its shining and glory. Victorious, but not smug. He never did acquire that particular talent. Squall had always had it, so he figures it's pretty natural that Garden, Squall's creature now, does, too.
He regrets it all, now. Back in Balamb town he didn't, only thinking that he was glad he'd got out of that sleepy place.
But Garden reminds him of -- hell, everything. Adrenaline and testosterone fuelled duels where Squall deigned to look at him and meet his eyes as he had when they'd played as children, although the sparring was so much more of a dangerous game. Nights he'd spent in his bed thinking of Squall, nights he'd spent in other people's beds, trying not to think of Squall. Times with Raijin and Fujin when they'd all laughed -- the kindness from Raijin and Fujin a strange and wonderful thing for a love-starved teenage boy with an ego, although he'd never let on to them how they comforted him.
Nights he'd spent sneaking out to meet Squall, hoping for more than their duels, determined not to settle for less.
There's a flurry of movement in Garden. For a moment, Seifer reaches for Hyperion, hand caressing the well-worn grip, but then he lets his hand fall away. The SeeDs are saluting someone: Cid, or Xu, or Squall, or maybe Quistis. Someone, perhaps, coming to deal with him.
Some days, he thinks he'd be glad to be dealt with.
"Hey there, Leonhart," he says, with only a touch of surprise. The kid is frowning -- though he doesn't look so much of a kid anymore. He's thoughtful, matured, and the scar across his lovely face helps.
"Do you want to come in?"
Seifer looks up again and then smirks, just a little, to worry the students standing so anxiously near the gates -- no doubt an escort for their commander. "I don't think so."
"Not yet," Squall says, finishing the thought, and Seifer almost asks him how he knows, but doesn't, because that would betray his mind to Squall ever more completely. He just nods.
"Some other time."
"I'll wait."
Author: twilightsrain/edenbound (ficjournal)
Theme: Regret
Rating: PG
Seifer stands just outside Garden. He can sense the wariness of the gate guards, the sleeping hostility that just waits for him to make a wrong move. He’s not even sure why he's there: it's not like he can change anything by returning to the place where it all began, and everyone hates him here anyway. There's nothing he can do and he doesn't want to do anything.
He came here because Squall did -- followed him home at a slower pace, like a dog slowly coming to heel. He always has been a lapdog, he thinks, smiling ruefully. The sun glints in his hair as he tips his head back to look all the way up to the top of Garden, in all its shining and glory. Victorious, but not smug. He never did acquire that particular talent. Squall had always had it, so he figures it's pretty natural that Garden, Squall's creature now, does, too.
He regrets it all, now. Back in Balamb town he didn't, only thinking that he was glad he'd got out of that sleepy place.
But Garden reminds him of -- hell, everything. Adrenaline and testosterone fuelled duels where Squall deigned to look at him and meet his eyes as he had when they'd played as children, although the sparring was so much more of a dangerous game. Nights he'd spent in his bed thinking of Squall, nights he'd spent in other people's beds, trying not to think of Squall. Times with Raijin and Fujin when they'd all laughed -- the kindness from Raijin and Fujin a strange and wonderful thing for a love-starved teenage boy with an ego, although he'd never let on to them how they comforted him.
Nights he'd spent sneaking out to meet Squall, hoping for more than their duels, determined not to settle for less.
There's a flurry of movement in Garden. For a moment, Seifer reaches for Hyperion, hand caressing the well-worn grip, but then he lets his hand fall away. The SeeDs are saluting someone: Cid, or Xu, or Squall, or maybe Quistis. Someone, perhaps, coming to deal with him.
Some days, he thinks he'd be glad to be dealt with.
"Hey there, Leonhart," he says, with only a touch of surprise. The kid is frowning -- though he doesn't look so much of a kid anymore. He's thoughtful, matured, and the scar across his lovely face helps.
"Do you want to come in?"
Seifer looks up again and then smirks, just a little, to worry the students standing so anxiously near the gates -- no doubt an escort for their commander. "I don't think so."
"Not yet," Squall says, finishing the thought, and Seifer almost asks him how he knows, but doesn't, because that would betray his mind to Squall ever more completely. He just nods.
"Some other time."
"I'll wait."