Disclaimer: All of Final Fantasy 8 belongs to the demigods at Square Enix and Sony and it makes me sad.
Written for the fated(underscore)children community at livejournal, for the themes separation, pale and deception.
Warnings:LagunaxSquall (don't like, don't read, kthx. ;) and angst.
We should have never told anyone that we are lovers. We should have admitted to being father and son and kept the other, more intimate part of our relationship behind closed doors, where it belongs. We should have never deceived them; we should have never lied to the whole world.
If they knew me as your father, rather than as your lover, I'd be by your side right now. I wouldn't be here, trapped behind this wall of glass and forced to look at you as every inch of your already so pale, translucent skin is covered in IV tubes and sticky patches that I'm told keep an eye on your life signs. Other tubes go through an incision in your throat to help you breathe and more make their way up your nose to feed you and all of them make you look so small, so helpless, so opposite of the strength you usually represent for me, for everyone.
I want to beat my fists against this glass I'm stuck behind. I want to break it, break through it and get to you, hold your hand and listen to your breath instead of being forced to hear the slow, steady beep of your heart monitor. I want to be by your side when you finally wake up and kiss you until you regain some colour in your cheeks. I want to, no, I need to play with your hair and tell you everything will be all right, convince myself that everything will be just fine. But instead, I'm stuck here, separated from you, stuck in what we neglected to tell the rest of the world, our little secret.
I lean against the glass in a mockery of my intentions and sigh, closing my eyes, unable to see you like this any longer. The window is cool against my forehead and I bite back tears when all of my body aches to reach out for you, to wrap you in my arms again, just once since Hyne knows how long.
You've been here for ages already, so sick, looking so fragile when they last let me see you up close, before the legions of doctors assigned to you decided that you'd become too sensitive to have anyone around.
I bang my fist against the window, a dull thud echoing through the otherwise empty room. Kiros and Ward left long ago, saying something about giving me some time alone to think. They haven't returned since and I suppose they're running the country in my name now, while I wait here for you to wake up and open your eyes, while I wait until it stops hurting that I can't be where you are, that I can't have you here with me.
Still fighting the tears, I sink down onto my knees and curse whatever force divides us.