Curiosity
by Lady Pyrefly
Author's Note: Ummm…this is my first Quall. I hope you all enjoi it. And, Miss Julia, this is for you, since I know how much you wanted a Quall. Just don't be mad at me. And, um, this is kind of weird, but this story is a one shot in three chapters. Enjoi.
They say curiosity killed the cat. But, of course, that's not what the cat says. The cat, well, she knows what really happened. She was there, after all. She knows the truth.
- -
Quistis sat in her chair at the Garden Festival, and marveled at the decorations around her. Selphie had really outdone herself. Quistis sighed, and removed the attached sleeves from her dress. She laid them neatly on the table, such a perfectionist. The lights above her glared harshly down into hereyes, aggravating her headache. She sighed once again.
She got up, and the blue folds of her dress swept the floor, throwing up dust bunnies. Maybe Selphie didn't do that great of a job. But, where to go? Another glass of champagne? No, Quistis decided she was already feeling too tipsy to have another glass. Where then? She didn't know. Quistis drifted in her navy dress over to the door, leaving her sleeves on the table.
Outside the Quad, the faint scent of chlorine wafted towards her from the fountains. Obviously, the odor did not agree with her stomach; Quistis had to sit down for a moment before continuing on. It was dark in the rest of the Garden, all the lights had been shut off, giving everything an eerie, bluish-silver glow. Quistis' stomach settled, and she kept walking.
She paused in front of the dormitories, and idea forming in her mind.
It had been hard on Squall since Rinoa called it quits. Quistis wondered how he was holding up; he had not reappeared from his room since.
Upstanding citizen and good friend she is, Quistis walked briskly towards Squall's room. She merely wanted to check up on him. At least, that's what she told herself.
But, unfortunately, there was a problem: Quistis did not know Squall's entry code. She slumped against his door, and thought. Maybe she should just go back to the Garden Festival. She was not Squall's keeper, after all. Why should she care if he was pouting in his room?
Two bumbling teenagers turned the corner, kissing and giggling. Quistis, hidden in the shadows, was tempted to punish them for being out after curfew. They slammed against the walls a few times, thus proving they were drunk as well. They kissed a few more times, and left, most likely headed towards the training center and the secret area.
Quistis stood up, after they had departed. She punched in a random set of numbers, "331243" and Squall's door swung open. Smiling smugly to herself, Quistis entered silently.
A crashed vase on the floor was proof that Squall and Rinoa were truly finished. The drawers were trashed, and their contents strewn all about the room. It was dark inside, as well, so Quistis assumed Squall was asleep. That, or Rinoa's sorcery had short circuited the power.
She crept, silent as a cat, towards his bedroom. Squall lay there, asleep, with his mouth open a little. He was still dressed in his usual outfit, minus the jacket and shirt, giving Quistis the impression he had fallen asleep unintentionally. The window above the bed was open, and a few beams of moonlight fell on the pair of them.
Maybe it was the champagne. Maybe it was the late nights. Or maybe, just maybe, it was curiosity plain and simple. But whatever it was, Quistis found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss Squall.
She shook her head; what was she thinking? The thought, however, lingered in her head, gnawing away at her mind. Quistis sighed, and granted herself one peck on Squall's sleeping cheek. A goodnight kiss. From a sister. At least, that's what was intended.
As Quistis bent down, something inside her mind snapped, and at the last moment, Quistis moved her head. Her lips pressed against his.
It was then that Squall awakened.
- -
Yes, they say curiosity killed the cat, but that's not how the cat tells it. Miss Kitty, in her infinite knowledge and wisdom, can sum it up for you in a word: love. Love killed the cat.