Weeeeellllll… Here it is! The first fic. I'm semi-proud of. It's really nothing amazing. To be honest, I probably could have improved it, but I'm getting tired of re-reading it a gazillion times. So feel free to hate me for the lameness and lack of a proper grammar/vocabulary.
A BIG thanks goes out to Black Eyed Mistress and iridescentwings, for being huge and conitnualsources of inspiration. If you haven't checked out their fics, you should. They'll be well worth your time (:
But for now, read on. Criticism is greatly appreciated.
Disclaimer: I do not own FFX-2 or any of the characters. Only my plot (my horrible plot…-cringe-)
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Just Those Little Things
She sat silently in the sand, her knees hugged tightly against hersmall body,her scarf billowing in the soft Bikanel breeze. Her hands were balled into tiny fists, clenching the fabric of her yellow dress that Pops had said made her look like the Princess she really was, even though she didn't like being called that.
The wind picked up, blowing grains of sand into her swirly green eyes and rattling the beads in her hair. She stared up at the sky and looked at the stars, pointing at each one and giving it a name, just like she and Mother used to do when she was sick.
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He scuffed the toe of his boot against the ground, watching her silently, hidden between sharp and pointy rocks that were jabbing him in places that ought not to be jabbed. He wanted desperately to get out of the cramped and tiny hole he called a hide-out so that he could speak with her, and try to explain what had happened. Then Cid wouldn't have any reason to chase him, or fire at him with his gun, or murder him, or… He cringed. He really didn't want to go there right now.
She sniffled. He squirmed. She tried to wrap her scarf around her body tighter. He tried to move forward. She started crying again. He stepped back once more. And it was in these moments that he wished some wild, man-eating flan would come and swallow him whole.
So he got out of his not-so-hidden hiding place and jumped up and down furiously, while mouthing curses and pulling on his hair. He kicked and lashed out at an invisible enemy until finally, after fifteen minutes of anger-management, he managed to calm down enough to start relentlessly beating his head against the rough trunk of a palm tree. He could care less now about whether or not she knew he was there, as long as he was able to get some temporary relief from the guilt and anguish tearing at his insides.
She hiccupped, and sniffled some more. He straightened up and smoothed out his clothes, putting on his best "You-know-you-love-me" face. She got up. He boldly stepped forward. She said she hated him and could care less if a whole flock of flans came and ate him alive. He laughed uneasily and told her he knew she didn't mean it. She said she'd kill him herself then. And that's when he knew his hair and smile and charm would be of no use this time.
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The air was tense and the silence made him want to scream and yell and seek refuge in his mother's arms so that he could explain that it wasn't his fault that she was so wound up. And that if he had known that she'd react this way, he would never have told her in the first place. And that he never meant what he said, it just… came out.
It made him want to lie down right then and there and throw a temper tantrum, just so that he could get it all out of his system, even though he was sixteen and temper tantrums were way beyond his coolness… Or so he said, but she knew better. And that made this all the more hard.
But he forced a smile out, and told her that she could say all she wanted, but deep down inside, he knew that she loved him and that she was just jealous because he hadn't paid as much attention to her as he did to Erhyka. But he said he'd forgive her, so he moved forward and stretched out his arms, as if to say "So let's hug and pretend this never happened".
She kneed him where it hurt and told him that she thought he was the most vile, ugly, meaniest, horrible, stupidest person she had ever met. That's when he figured out that he should have stuck with the apology.
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She started to stomp off angrily. He grabbed her ankle. She fell face first into the sand and tried to push herself back up. He pinned her down. She struggled. He smirked. And that's when he knew she had figured out she was stuck.
Despite the throbbing pain between his legs, he was happy. This was a long awaited moment, and he mentally noted that he should reward himself once this was all sorted out. After all, it wasn't every day that you managed to straddle the Al Bhed Leader's daughter, the one and only princess-kick-your-ass (who actually had a very attractive ass, he admitted), in a dress.Now if only he could get those nasty little guilt butterflies out of his stomach.
So he looked at her in the eyes and she noticed their gleam. He leaned forward. She held her breath. His lips were really close to hers and he could almost count all the cute little freckles that dotted her nose. She punched him in the face. And so he learned to never let go of a pissed-off, being-straddled-in-a-dress, Al Bhed Princess' hands.
And that gave her the split second she needed. With all her might, she pushed upwards and leaped into an all-or-nothing sprint towards the thin strip of light coming from the horizon. She knew that he she could just reach the edge of Home, she'd be safe. She knew that if she could just get through the sea of bodies and tables and overfilled wine glasses, she'd win. And that for once, it would be her turn gloat and to smile down on him, even though he was a foot and a half taller. Unfortunately, he knew this too.
So he lunged. And she screamed. He grabbed her dress. She tumbled. He pinned her… again. She swore at him. He said he had never seen a Princess wear such pretty underwear. She called him the most perverted man she had ever met. So he thanked her. And she cried. And he let her go immediately and tried to apologize.
But no matter what he said, she kept on crying, and he wanted so desperately to hold her, and comfort her, and tell her that everything would be okay because he would go and beat up the pycdynt that had hurt her. Except this time, he was the pycdynt, and not Deryk, or Zahk, or Brother even. So he just sat beside her, rubbing her back soothingly, and let her cry, until she calmed down and only her hiccups could be heard over the boisterous crowd that had gathered in the middle of Home to celebrate, like they did every year.
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After a few minutes, she got up and brushed the sand out of her hair, with her head held high, piecing together the remaining shreds of dignity that she had left. She stomped past him, continuing her way back towards Home. So he got up and tried to follow her, to his dire misfortune. And thus he learned that Al Bhed Princesses' were not to be messed with, especially when wielding pointy and potentially lethal forks.
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He cursed under his breath again, nursing his right arm. He could clearly see the very small, albeit enormously painful war wound of four holes imprinted into his skin. Never had he thought that such a tiny culinary utensil could serve as such a deadly weapon. Knives, pans, heck, even plates, but never a fork. And why she had the fork in the first place was beyond him. Luckily, she had discarded the weapon in question after the assault, but he kept his distance, just in case she still had something more "harmful" in the premises.
And he could feel the bruise that was starting to form on the side of his face. It hurt... a lot. Of all the girls he had chosen to piss off, it just had to be her. And his wounded parts weren't helping douse the pain either. He muttered to himself, wondering why he hadn't just left her to bask in her misery and sorrow when she had run off in the first place.
Besides! It wasn't as if she had never done anything mean to him. There was that one time where she had proclaimed his homosexuality (which, he constantly reminded himself, was not true) in front of his newest girlfriend and her gang. Of course, he was sure that the batch of brownies she had given him was NOT, in any sort, a form of apology.
But deep down, he knew he deserved it all. Even if he thought that the kick to the groin was slightly overdone, and that her silent treatment was more painful than being smashed repeatedly by an enraged Machina. Just, he'd never let her know that, because she wouldn't believe him. Or worse, she'd laugh in his face and tell him he was an idiot for even thinking that she'd believe him.
Yet he wanted to call out her name. And he wanted to say how sorry he was and explain everything that happened, just like Kay would. He wanted to hold her in his arms and whisper in her ear, just like Kay did. He wanted to tell her she was the most beautiful girl in Home, just like Kay had.
But he knew she'd neverhave faith in him. Even if he did say he was sorry. Even if he did tell her that the only reason he had said she was ugly was because he really thought she was gorgeous. And that the only reason he had kissed Erhyka was to make her jealous. And that the only reason he was leaving was so that he would be able to protect her from more than just the bullies around Home. So that he could protect her from Sin... Even if it did sound dumb. Because he wasn't the amazing and simply handsome Kay. He was just Gippal.
And that's when it clicked. So he ran, as fast as he could, given the circumstances. He ran, and ran, until his fingertips brushed her shoulder. She spun around. And he kissed her. She squealed. But he didn't let go this time, and neither did she. He wrapped his arms around her small frame and pushed her head upwards some more. And that's when he knew that it was the most wonderful feeling in all of Spira.
But she pushed away after a few minutes and stared long and hard at the ground. He laughed a little, to ease the tense atmosphere. She wrung her hands together uncomfortably. He grabbed them with his own. She asked him if he really had to leave. He said he did, but he promised that he was going to defeat Sin once and for all, and become the greatest Hero in all of Spira. Then no one would make fun of the Al Bhed anymore. And maybe he'd come home, and whisk her away to a beautiful palace in Kilika, or Mi'hen, or he'd build one in Macalania.
And if she was lucky, she'd actually get to live there too.
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She giggled and punched him gently on the shoulder. He grasped his arm in mock pain, slumping against her body for support. Or at least that's what he said, but she knew he was just finding an excuse to hold her some more.
So he whispered an apology in her ear, knowing she'd just have to forgive him now. And she smiled back. That's when he felt like the luckiest guy around... until she pushed him into the sand, and sprinted towards Home. He just sat there, shocked. And this time he knew he'd never catch up.
But he tried anyways. He ran past dancing couples, tables and chairs. He ran through alleys and streets, following the path he knew by heart that would lead him to her house. And sure enough, there she was, sitting on her front steps, waiting for him and his bruised and battered self to take her to a far off land where they could live happily ever after.
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She got up. He ran towards her. She opened the door and stood in the frame with her hands behind her back. He proudly swaggered up the steps. She smiled. He leaned forward. She got on her tiptoes. He shut his eyes and closed the little gap between them, lettings his lips land smack dab on her… door!
He reeled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, attempting to glare holes through the offending piece of wood. Maybe, he thought, it had just been the wind. Maybe, if he knocked, she'd come back and throw herself into his arms.
So he tried. And no one answered. But he knew that was going to happen… because there hadn't been any wind.
And slowly, he left, his head drooped disappointedly, because he was sure he had blown his one chance to smithereens. But he looked at her house one last time, checking the top left window, because he knew her room was there. And she stuck out her tongue and waved, flaunting around carelessly in her chocobo print pajamas; because she knew it bugged him.
So he glared. And she grinned cheekily, closing her curtains and turning off the lights.
And he couldn't help but smile to himself. Because even though she was annoying, and even though she was a kid, and even though she had said he was gay in front of EVERYONE… He liked her a lot. But he never went running after girls. Nope, they came running after him. He made girls melt like puddles of mush every time he flashed his dashing smiles, or glanced their way. And he was sure that she was no different.
But he knew it would be hard, and he knew she'd be difficult, and would downright object to any and all of his advances. But that was okay, because someday, some really far off day, she'd react. And he'd be ready. Ready to tell her how he knew she couldn't resist him. So she'd smile. And he'd kiss her. Then she'd blush. And then they would be happy.
And he knew -he just knew- that he was up for the challenge.
Because it was just those little things that only he knew, that would make her smile.
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And so it ends in all horrible sappiness. Review please... All criticism is GREATLY accepted.