A/N: Alright... So... I normally write for final fantasy 7... And if I do venture into the world of final fantasy 8 I nearly only read Squall and Rinoa fics. But I started reading some Seifer and Quistis stuff and I must admit it's very good material to read :) Anyway I thought I would give it a shot so please excuse anything which isn't exactly... fitting... I've never played the game so I have no idea what I got right or wrong lol xD you could consider this to be an AU fic if it bothers you that much lol xD
Anyway, please read it and tell me what you think of my first time trying to write for FFVIII :D
"You! I hate you!"
The words were screamed at him across the table, seconds before the tears started falling and she ran from the room. He blinked, taking a drag from his cigarette and propping his feet on the table. He wasn't going to be moved by her insecure show of emotion, even as he listened to her footsteps disappearing down the hall and through the front door. If she didn't come home tonight, it might give her chance to rethink her opinion of him.
She didn't hate him, they'd just had a fight. The usual tale of him being obnoxious and her being sick and tired of defending his actions when she received no better from him than anyone else. If he was entirely honest, he just didn't think about his actions or what he said. He'd spent so long not having anyone to please that being nasty and being unfeeling were as common to him as breathing. Both of which he did regularly.
He drew the cigarette from his lips and looked at it. He really should quit, they were killing him and they made his fingers yellow and his clothes smell bad. Quistis hated his smoking, along with all his other 'disgusting habits', such as putting his feet on the table and talking with his mouth full.
His gaze travelled down to where his feet were resting on a pile of her neatly stacked test sheets, now sporting nice muddy half-moons from the backs of his boot heels. He considered leaving his feet there out of spite, but then decided to move them. Quistis would forgive him after a while if he ruined the sheets, but the guilt would stick with him for longer, knowing he did it out of spite.
He returned the cigarette to his lips and took another drag, wondering why he was suddenly such a softy for this girl. Once upon a time he would do his utmost to annoy and irritate her, but now he did it without thinking. It wasn't as if he wanted to make her hate him anymore either, it just came naturally. Once upon a time she would have just brushed him off and waltzed away like she hadn't a care in the world. But now... Now it was as if she'd left herself so open to him that she'd forgotten how to act aloof and disconnected.
Stubbing out the wasted end, he picked up the papers and took them to the kitchen counter, wondering what would be the best way to get rid of the dirt. He wasn't stupid enough to try washing it off, but besides a damp cloth and maybe a paper press he really had no idea how to clean them. But then again, it was only one sheet. Did he really have to? Couldn't he just... put it to the bottom of the pile and pretend it wasn't him?
He sighed as he thought of her reaction when she found it. She'd pick it up and hold it out to show him what she'd found, a look on her face that clearly stated she knew how it got there. He didn't need any words to know she wasn't impressed and she would be irritable and unfriendly the rest of the day. And there was going to be no way he could tell her he didn't mean to because... Well, he did it every time. And every time she would turn blue eyes on him and look disappointed. So lately, he had stopped apologising all together.
He knew it hurt her, he'd seen it in her eyes, when she'd expected an apology and he'd just shrugged. He could see the shock run through her and watched it slowly turn to acceptance as slowly she'd stopped expecting an apology.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, leaving the papers on the surface and turning to lean against the counter, his hand digging in his pocket for another cig. He pulled out the box and tapped one out, placing it in his mouth as he sought for his lighter. The smoke swirled in the room with him as he lit up, breathing deeply and feeling the choking sensation rush through his lungs. It didn't matter how many of these things he had, the deeper the breath the more he felt he couldn't breathe.
There were only two things in this world that stopped him breathing; smoking and Quistis. Irritability and insecurities aside, she was one hot babe. Or more to the point, she was his hot babe. It had taken him a while to realise what he wanted was really her, and after a whole 6 months of scaring away competition, coincidental meetings and one rainy night stuck in the middle of nowhere with nobody but her, he had got what he wanted. Along with a runny nose and the mother of all headaches the following morning. And the best part of it all was, she was suffering the exact same ailments as himself.
So why, if all he really wanted was her, was he leaning against her kitchen counter, indulging in a habit he knew she hated, after being so insufferably mean to her? Well he sure as hell didn't know and he was damned if he was going to find out any time soon. He stubbed out the butt of his cigarette, then walked over to the window to let out the smoke.
He was about to turn back to the couch and watch some telle when he heard her crying. He stopped, listening to the soft sobs and sniffs that sounded from below the window. Quistis never cried. Never for anyone but him. The person who loved her the most in all the world was the only one she would let make her cry. Why did she do this to herself? Or more importantly – and probably more precisely – why did he do these things to her?
"You! I hate you!"
She screamed at him over the table and it only took seconds for the tears to begin flowing, following the words out of her mouth as she turned and ran from the room, dashing down the hall and through the door, slamming it after her.
She didn't want to start crying, but damn it all he was just so horrible sometimes! She was only talking to him about her day, he didn't need to be so... Sectioned all the time! It wasn't as if she was even asking him for much, all she wanted was some form of verbal response, not to be ignored all the time! And then he'd begun smoking! In her flat! He knew she hated it when he smoked! And yet-! And yet...
And yet here she was standing in the doorway of the apartment building, hugging herself and letting herself cry. Over him. Again.
It was stupid really, she knew, but she couldn't help the way he always managed to get on her nerves. He'd always managed it before, when he was simply poking fun at her because... Well because! And she never really minded back then because she hadn't been any different from the rest of the crowd. Back then he was unkind to everyone and she hadn't required any preferential treatment. But now... Now she wanted – no, needed – something more. She needed to be special in his eyes, be treated differently from everyone else, because he loved her didn't he? She didn't want to consider the possibility that he might not. But it was times like these, when she seemed to be the only one affected by their arguments that she seriously doubted his professed feelings towards her.
She wiped a hand across under her eyes, getting rid of her current tears to make room for new ones to slip down her face. Was it so much to ask? To be treated differently once in a while? Not that she wasn't treated differently, but that was just the problem, it really was once in a while. He got terribly possessive when they were around other people, particularly men and she couldn't deny the fact that she felt flattered. And he could be incredibly sweet sometimes; doing the little things he knew she really cared about, like cooking dinner and buying her things. Little ways he would spoil her with sappy films she knew he had no real interest in. And dancing.
She was a terrible dancer, she wanted to laugh at the memory of him coaxing her onto a dance floor in one of Galbadia's many fund raising events, a cheeky smirk plastered to his face as she pleaded with him – to no avail. She ended up tripping them both up and landing on her bottom in the middle of the dance floor, trying to scowl at him though they were both laughing too hard.
Yes, there were moments where she was definitely different in his eyes and even she could tell. But those moments were few and far between. And next to the frequent arguments and constant quarrelling where she was always the one in tears by the end of it, the good moments were sophomoric in comparison.
But Seifer would always be Seifer and there was going to be no changing it. She sighed as she stepped into the night to sit on one of the bollards outside the front door, wiping a hand under her eyes. He was probably up there watching TV already as uncaring as ever about their one-sided argument. Which was stupid really because how could an argument be one sided? Simple; it couldn't. They were never really arguing, it was always just her voicing her opinions on him.
She sobbed involuntarily, hating the fact that she was so weak, so useless against him and he could always, always no matter what she did or said make her cry. This was a side of her that nobody ever saw, even when she was little and scraped her knee, she would hold in the tears, reserving them for some later moment when no one would be looking before letting them out. But then of course it was too late, the moment for crying had gone. So she never cried. For anyone but him.
She used to hate the way he bullied everyone when they were kids. They would glare at each other and scowl, but he could never make her cry. Not a single drop. Even when they were teenagers and she saw how he treated those few women he saw differently, if only for a millisecond; saving them from being tormented by others, picking up their books for them, just generally being a prince charming. Days later he wouldn't even acknowledge their existence.
She had never been one of those girls, mainly because there was no way anyone would dare bully her and secondly, she never wanted to be rescued by Seifer Almasy. Now however , all she really wanted was to be nearer to him. Which wasn't exactly going to be easy considering how she already spent nearly all her time with him and being any closer to someone when you were already attached to them in the most intimate of ways both above and below wasn't the simplest of things to acomplish. But it didn't stop her wanting it.
She huffed as she kicked the asphalt under her shoes, she really was being silly and annoying if she thought that she could turn him into a benevolent girl-friend overnight. To begin with, horrible was practically the only word in his dictionary and then of course there was no way they would ever be close enough to each other to be called real friends, let alone the kind to sit down together, paint toenails and talk about crushes. That was just a stupid and impossible notion that she gave up on years ago. Just like she gave up on the apologies.
She couldn't deny that it hurt her when he failed to apologize, conjuring up a pathetic excuse even though he knew it wouldn't suffice, or just simply shrugging and walking away. Yes it hurt her, but she didn't cry about that. She wasn't so soft that she would cry over something so silly as a missing apology.
Which raised the question of why she was out here in the cold, alone. Again.
"You don't really hate me do you?" She jumped, turning her head and shoulders round to see him standing in the doorway, hands by his side, looking incredibly guilty. And just a teensy bit scared. She hadn't even noticed him arriving, she had been too wrapped up in her sorrow to pay any attention to anything else. She turned back around as she thought up an answer.
She could tell him the truth and say she didn't hate him. Pure and simple. But then what would that accomplish? He would nod, turn around and walk back inside to have another cigarette, put his muddy boots on the table, flick on the TV and sit there as if nothing had happened. As always. Or... Or she could tell him exactly what she thought of him, tell him about all the little things in the hopes that he might listen and take some of it in. A futile hope, but then at least she would have tried.
"Does it worry you that I might?" She asked.
"No." He replied. She nodded, the usual response. She opened her mouth to ask him another question, but he wasn't finished. "I'm not worried about whether or not you hate me. I'm worried that I'm holding you back. Keeping you here even though you don't want to stay. It worries me that you could be somewhere else, with someone who would treat you better, and you could be happy. But you're not, because you're with me. And you're unhappy. That's what worries me."
Quistis didn't move. She didn't know what to say. She hadn't expected anything other than that first 'no' and his long-winded reply had caught her off guard. She tried replaying it in her head but it still didn't make sense. Was he... Breaking up with her? He continued adding fuel to her fire. "Since we first got together you've done nothing but hassle me about things. And I've done nothing but ignore you. And I know everything you said was for my own good. And I know I've hurt you, more than... Well, I've hurt you loads and I wouldn't be surprised if you never want to have anything to do with me ever again. So if you do hate me like you said you do, I won't stop you leaving."
"You're not even going to try?" She turned to him, sounding incredulous and feeling a little let down. He shook his head and she felt the tears start up again. So this was it. This was the deciding moment. He was putting things to her. It was her choice; did she stay? Or did she leave him? If she did she couldn't stay here tonight... Either that or he couldn't. But then he'd have to find a place to stay and-
She shook her head, mortified that the thought had even crossed her mind. There was no way she could be without him, even if he hurt her, she was too happy with him. Whenever she had thought of her future, even when they were younger and more naive Seifer would always be a part of it, even as a shadow in the background, he was still there. The thought of scrubbing out his shadow in her picture, replacing him with some faceless dolt, hurt more than she thought was possible.
"Do you want me to leave?" She asked, holding herself and watching his eyes turn skywards, thinking. Surely this was a question that didn't require a whole load of thought, but apparently he was going to take his time and think this through carefully before he said anything.
At long last he turned his gaze back to her and said slowly, "I want you to be happy. And if you can be happy without me then yes I want you to leave and never look back." She could feel her throat tightening and her chest constricting even as he stepped forwards, his hand reaching out to brush a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "But... If you... Can't be happy without me... If you... Need me like I find myself needing you... Then I'll keep you here forever and never let you go."
She didn't have to say anything. She couldn't say anything as she flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder as his arms came round her and pinned her to him. She didn't want to leave him, that she knew, and if he really meant what he just said - about needing her with him - then she had no intentions of even considering it again. And by the way he was crushing her to him, ducking his head to bury his nose in her hair and breathe in her scent with shaky breaths, she could tell he didn't really want to let her go.
"Seifer..." She whispered, pulling away as much as she could with his arms still holding her to him. "I don't hate you... I'm sorry I said it..." He nodded but didn't say anything, just held her closer still, if that was at all possible. "I just... Don't like being the same as all those other girls..."
That made him look at her. He gave her an incredulous frown, holding her away from himself so he could look her in the eye, silently inviting her to explain herself. She took a breath, looking around for inspiration, "I... Want to be different in your eyes..."
"You are different!" He sounded as if this was obvious and she really ought to know it.
"But why are you mean to me then?" She questioned.
He shrugged "I don't think about it before I do it... It's... part of my psyche..."
She frowned, dropping her arms by her sides. "Well it shouldn't be part of your psyche. I don't like always being the one to put effort into this relationship!"
He sighed, seeming to think, then dug in his pocket for his cigarette box, pulling it out and waving it in front of her face before lobbing both it and his silver lighter in the bin some 4 meters away. "There," he said, opening his arms wide and inviting her for a hug, "No more smoking from now on."
Quistis didn't move. She was still staring at the bin. His lighter hadn't quite made the trip and was lying on the ground beside it. "Do you mean it?" She whispered, her eyes still holding doubt and apprehension. "You'll really quit?"
"I mean it." He said, dropping his arms and watching as she went to the bin and bent to retrieve the lighter. It was a nice lighter and it would be a shame to get rid of it. She knew he would miss it later. "If it means it to you then I'll do it."
She couldn't help but smile at him for that. He sounded so sure, so laid-back and confident that he could make good on his word, even though she knew on the inside he was probably beating himself to a proverbial pulp for being such a push over. Giving the lighter a wistful look, she pocketed it and made to go back inside, ignoring Seifer's arms which were once again open for a hug.
"I still haven't forgiven you for making me cry." She said over her shoulder when he followed her, looking a little peeved. But that soon turned to sheepish when she said smoothly "And I know there are boot marks on my test papers, it would be irresponsible to think they may have remained clean in this house."
A/N: I know what you're probably thinking... 'That has got nothing to do with reflections.' But really it has. They were both reflecting on themselves and the effect the have on the other person and the effect the other person has on them. So really it's all about reflections. Even if it doesn't seem that way :)
R&R please :)
-Okami