He was waiting for me at the street corner, standing just out of the light of the street lamp but still recognisable to me. I could have recognised him anywhere, of course, but with him standing there I couldn't help but think he was too exposed. I wasn't late. He was early. Too eager for our meeting, the idiot.
He looked up when I got close. He hadn't even changed his style of clothes, his stance and habits all the same. He was smoking, and I sighed softly at that; I don't know how many times he's taken up smoking, quit again, smoked again, quit again... he seems to be able to quit on demand, but still, I don't like the smell of smoke on him.
He seemed to read my mind as I got close and he dropped the thing, crushing it under his foot. For a moment, we didn't say anything. I was lit up by the street lamp, the light almost in my eyes, he stood in shadow. He'd got a new trench coat – same design, but less tattered than the other had become. He was smiling at the sight of me, not a smirk but a smile, just a curl of the corner of his mouth that he'd learnt in response to my hatred of his smirk.
"Squall," he said at last, very softly, and I shivered slightly. I couldn't help it. The way he said it... undescribable. He said my name as if I was some kind of god, as if my name was precious. It wouldn't save him, though.
"Seifer," I said, trying to sound cool and distant. "You need to change your habits if you don't want to be caught."
"If you were the one meant to be catching me, babe, maybe," he smiled again, "but no one knows me like you do."
"Whatever."
"Where are we staying?"
"There's a hotel over in that direction."
"Right," he said with a nod, and followed my lead. We were silent, then. I was glad for the sleepy indifference of the woman who gave me the key to the room I'd reserved, and Seifer remained silent as a ghost as I lead him up the stairs.
He moved the minute we were in the hotel room, pushing his body against mine and shoving me against the wall. He leant down and kissed me and I kissed back, running a hand through his hair, pressing close to him until he had my back against a wall, his body solid against mine, holding me there, a cage I didn't want to escape.
It felt so damn good to be in his arms again.
"I'm sorry," I found myself whispering, when he had pulled back a little and was just looking down at me in the half-dark of the room. He cupped my cheek and kissed me again, softly, eagerly, and shook his head. He never thought I should apologise. But he was being hunted because I couldn't convince people of his innocence. He was a fugitive because everyone listened to me but not to what was really important.
"Just... shut up," he muttered harshly, finally, and he pressed his mouth against mine, eager and hot, to shut me up.
----
"You think that... some day... I'll be able to lie in bed with you and not think that I have to go before dawn?" he whispered against my ear, dropping kisses on my neck. I didn't want to answer. Didn't have an answer for him. He wrapped an arm around my waist and moved me closer, bodies pressing together. I wished we could stay here. Stay here and lay here and never move.
But it was for his own safety that we stayed separate. He travelled the world, always one or two steps ahead of whoever was looking for him, and I gave my SeeDs false information, arranged our meetings, sometimes with completely unknowing SeeD guards who would let no one interfere in my business. When we were apart, I tried to prove his innocence. I had very little chance and he was just half a step ahead of authorities now.
He had been controlled by the Sorceress. It had been obvious to me, I knew him, knew him inside out as a sparring partner and a lover. The way he spoke, the way he moved, the way he fought, the tatters of his clothes – it was all wrong. It wasn't Seifer. No one, of course, could know that like I could, except Fujin and Raijin.
The memory of that sent a little shiver down my spine. I had been tortured by Seifer, and yet it hadn't been Seifer. I had fought him, tried to kill him, he had tried to kill me, and yet it hadn't been us.
I turned a little to press the full lengths of our bodies together, his chest against my back, my ass against his hips. He reached over me and took my hand, fingers tangling with mine. His other hand traced a scar on my back.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice thick, "I'm so sorry."
"Just shut up," I repeated his words back at him and pressed harder against him. Wisely, he didn't say a word more, just kissed the scar and closed his eyes.
When he got up, I lay still on the bed. I watched him get dressed, finally moving only to prop myself up on one elbow and run my fingers through my hair as he shrugged on his trench coat. "We can't meet again for a while, it's not safe for you."
"Squall - " he started to protest, coming over to me, and I sat up, reaching up to put my finger against his lips. He wrapped his arms around my waist, looking as if he had a million things to say, but he didn't try, just kissed my finger softly and waited for me to take it away.
"Deling City," I said, softly, "Deling City in a month's time."
"Where?"
"Get the bus from... anywhere, to Caraway's mansion," I said quietly, trying to remember the buses, the bus stops, the places where there weren't likely to be too many people. "We can work it out from there."
"Same time as usual?"
That didn't even need answering. I gave him the tiniest of nods.
"And if I can't make it there, that place in Esthar in three months?"
I nodded again. He moved my finger gently away from my mouth, leaned down a little, kissed me again. He didn't say goodbye. We never do. He just walked away, out of the room, and I heard the click of the door and then the heavy movement of his feet down the corridor, until there was just silence again. Thick walls. No sound from outside, really.
I gave it a minute. Then I got up and went to the window, parting the blinds a little to watch him walk across the road, avoiding the light of the street lamps, away from the town.
I turned away again and went to bed.
