...
a f t e r g l o w
I.
NEVER LET ME GO
The scent of flowers is strong, and she enjoys it as she keeps her eyes shut, trying to ignore the sound of sheets moving beside her. Lavenders, lilies, roses, fragrance even sweeter than any perfume – but they wane quicker than she thought they would, and her heart drops in disappointment. She can smell him better now though. Him, and reality.
One eye snaps open, copper brown orb scrutinizing the surroundings, swallowing everything in a quick observation. She spots him across the room, his back to her, smoke rising as he pours their morning coffee with the usual nimbleness, as if he's been trained for the task for years, as if they've shared the same room for forever.
"You're not going to wake up?" He doesn't smell of roses or lilies or lavenders, nor does he remind her of summer or spring (as he usually does, when there's only the two of them, their hearts beating as one) – at least, not today. This morning he smells of steel and bronze and metal. And ghosting behind it is the faint, repulsive stench of duty (blood).
Despite herself and heavy stupor weighing down on her eyelids, she shudders. "If I don't, will you come back to bed?"
A sigh was his answer. There's a rustle of paper, and soon his face is hidden behind Daily Balamb. She tosses to another side, not willing to rise from bed just yet. "I had a dream." No answer, no response, but she knows he's listening. She makes an intricate gesture with her hands, drawing castles in the air. "A dream, and then a nightmare." When that still doesn't elicit as much of a derisive snort or his tired remark, she continues, reluctant; "I dreamed of you going so far away, and never coming back."
He finally turns (albeit slowly), and puts the newspaper away. "Rinoa." Most of the time, she likes the way he mouths her name, especially two years ago when her heart was still porcelain-fragile and beautiful like butterfly; it would flutter and fly and fly and fly, and she had liked it. But it sounds different this morning. "How many times should I tell you this—"
"I know, I know," she snaps, drowsiness receding abruptly and annoyance settling in. She gets up. He stares at her, and she dares return the gaze. "Will you come back?"
Pregnant silence shrouds them, for how long, she isn't sure. But he laughs then, and although he's always looked better with a smile on his scarred face, this laughter rings peculiarly in the air. "I will always come back." He encloses the gap between them, two meters reduced to one, fifty centimeters reduced to twenty.
She breathes in him, his aroma; she drinks in his chestnut brown eyes, his icy blue eyes, his visage. "As astute as ever," she mocks.
"What makes you think I won't? A dream's just a dream."
"I don't know," she finally answers, burying her head in his chest, hugging him tight. "Oh, I don't know, Squall."
The violets and gold outside the window grow brighter and brighter and still she doesn't let go, as if trying to cover the inexorable miles between them, the distance that will set them apart somewhere in the (nowpresentnowsoon) future.
I wish the knight and the sorceress were invincible. I wish we could be together forever.
But she doesn't say anything. And when he leaves five hours later, she doesn't say goodbye in fear of it being their last.
...
a/n: I've been wanting to write Squall/Rinoa since forever but somehow never managed to. So I'm really happy that I'm finally able to post this, even though this is just a drabble/one-shot collection instead of a chaptered project. The themes are based on drabble365days on LJ (which are plenty and really interesting).
Updates should come rather fast, I think. This collection will show snippets of how Squall and Rinoa cope with their relationship and the aftermath of war, the hardship and tragedy they have to face, the good things earned through sacrifice. I hope you'll enjoy the ride.
Rated T for now, will probably turn M later on. Please tell me what you think; reviews are greatly appreciated!
- Ryfee
