Final Fantasy 8 fic: Refusal of Drowning
For the fantastic
sarkywoman, who kindly gives me feedback for my stories, and who is a much better writer than I can ever hope to be. She requested a FF8 fic with Submissive!Seifer.
The result is a rather weird little story without any background information to what exactly is going on and a pairing I'd never thought of writing before. It pretty much sucks, sorry.
Title: Refusal of Drowning
Fandom: Final Fantasy 8
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Irvine/Seifer
It’s dark outside - you can not see it but you know. Because you decided. It’s been weeks, months (years?) since you last saw the sky, sunlight, the change from day to night. There is no way of telling the time but you decided that it is night now, and so it is. What could prove you wrong?
You are the king of your own universe.
But your universe consists of four walls (a narrow bed, a tiny little bathroom) and your people are long gone. You dragged them down with you but were unable to keep them above the surface while you, lonely king of a lonely hill, still refuse to drown.
There are victims in every war. Those that die, and those that are forgotten.
You envy the dead.
-
He always comes at midnight, the single hand of your private clock. It doesn’t matter that the days don’t have a regular number of hours. His appearance marks the darkest moment of the night, the hour of the ghosts. You refuse to speak to him and he doesn’t try to make you and doesn’t let you leave.
You’ve long since stopped trying to go.
The world outside has moved on and you haven’t.
-
His long hair falls over his shoulder and tickles your stomach while you take the punishment for not being someone else. You have come to carve these moments, this contact with another living, breathing, warm being that keeps you alive. You never let him know, but one day (night) you will give in and allow yourself to take what he gives with pleasure. It’s all you have left and sometimes you think it’s also all he has left.
You fight your battles in silence.
-
He lies with you afterwards, his head resting on your chest and he’s never done that before. You don’t ask because you don’t care. Pride keeps you company down here, keeps your head above the surface while he is elsewhere and you refuse to let go of your only friend.
Everyone’s gone, he says, speaking to the wall. His words form shapes in the twilight. There’s just you and me.
You wonder if what you feel deserves to be called pain. It doesn’t matter. You wonder if he’ll stay now. It doesn’t matter. There are ripples in the room, shaping and reshaping your kingdom. He doesn’t move as if he doesn’t notice.
You listen to the sound, fascinated, curious.
It takes minutes for you to recognize your own laughter.
-
He leaves, as always.
As always he retunes. At midnight.
You wonder if the sun still exists when there’s no-one to see it.
- October 28, 2007
sarkywoman, who kindly gives me feedback for my stories, and who is a much better writer than I can ever hope to be. She requested a FF8 fic with Submissive!Seifer.
The result is a rather weird little story without any background information to what exactly is going on and a pairing I'd never thought of writing before. It pretty much sucks, sorry.
Title: Refusal of Drowning
Fandom: Final Fantasy 8
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Irvine/Seifer
It’s dark outside - you can not see it but you know. Because you decided. It’s been weeks, months (years?) since you last saw the sky, sunlight, the change from day to night. There is no way of telling the time but you decided that it is night now, and so it is. What could prove you wrong?
You are the king of your own universe.
But your universe consists of four walls (a narrow bed, a tiny little bathroom) and your people are long gone. You dragged them down with you but were unable to keep them above the surface while you, lonely king of a lonely hill, still refuse to drown.
There are victims in every war. Those that die, and those that are forgotten.
You envy the dead.
-
He always comes at midnight, the single hand of your private clock. It doesn’t matter that the days don’t have a regular number of hours. His appearance marks the darkest moment of the night, the hour of the ghosts. You refuse to speak to him and he doesn’t try to make you and doesn’t let you leave.
You’ve long since stopped trying to go.
The world outside has moved on and you haven’t.
-
His long hair falls over his shoulder and tickles your stomach while you take the punishment for not being someone else. You have come to carve these moments, this contact with another living, breathing, warm being that keeps you alive. You never let him know, but one day (night) you will give in and allow yourself to take what he gives with pleasure. It’s all you have left and sometimes you think it’s also all he has left.
You fight your battles in silence.
-
He lies with you afterwards, his head resting on your chest and he’s never done that before. You don’t ask because you don’t care. Pride keeps you company down here, keeps your head above the surface while he is elsewhere and you refuse to let go of your only friend.
Everyone’s gone, he says, speaking to the wall. His words form shapes in the twilight. There’s just you and me.
You wonder if what you feel deserves to be called pain. It doesn’t matter. You wonder if he’ll stay now. It doesn’t matter. There are ripples in the room, shaping and reshaping your kingdom. He doesn’t move as if he doesn’t notice.
You listen to the sound, fascinated, curious.
It takes minutes for you to recognize your own laughter.
-
He leaves, as always.
As always he retunes. At midnight.
You wonder if the sun still exists when there’s no-one to see it.
- October 28, 2007