A/N: Right, so. Expect a lot of little inaccuracies with this bugger. I have never gotten far in FF8, only far enough to see that hey, Squall and Rinoa are cute, even if they're seriously the biggest polar opposites ever. References include Green Day's "Homecoming" (no need to worry, I love this band, but small doses are always better) and the Waltz for the Moon song that I love ever so much.

So with that in mind, and the fact that Rinoa doesn't appear in KH, I decided to write a little Leon thing. I've been wanting to attempt the Runner-up in Angst (Cloud quite obviously takes the gold in this category) for a while, so if anything's off, please tell me. Thank you!

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing

He remembers Rinoa whenever he sees a shooting star burning up in the sky. He's reminded of her, and when they waltzed for the moon or the wishes of High Society or maybe even for themselves. He regrettably remembers being hopeless, but she wouldn't give up, like maybe they would dance again someday. Just maybe.

In his mind she's brighter than she really was, all alight with smiles, blue fabric brushing against his jacket as she takes her hand in his. She leans in close, her breath sweet and clean. She poses the question.

Just one more dance, please, Squall? I know you have it in you.

They are silent for a long, long time. He wants to say no, Rinoa, I don't keep promises; our world changes too much for that. But this isn't a favor, it's a request, and he can't bring himself to say no, but he can't say yes either. He compromises with:

…I'll try.

---

He remembers that conversation above all the rest. It wasn't a promise. He wasn't good at keeping promises and she didn't demand them. They just told the truth to each other, and in a way, that had been enough. They hadn't loved with a love that was more than love—it was no storybook romance, and for all her manners, she wasn't a princess; of course, he was hardly a prince. But they hadn't wasted time or tears mourning over this. They had taken what they could from each other; they had tried to be happy, the way everyone else was.

Now it's much later—try four years, he thinks sourly—and she's still not here. He's dreaming of that song they danced to. They are on the marble floor in a palace or castle he can't remember the name of, and even when he butchers the steps Rinoa is still hopeful, still saying: "Waltz for the moon, for High Society, for me, Squall."

He's dreaming of that song, but something went wrong.

The darkness came and tore everything apart. It grew like a vine that couldn't be stopped, like a nightmare come to life. He shot and shot the Gunblade into the night, and screamed for her but she wasn't coming. He saw her vanishing—no, please, wait, she's still here, I can still save her.

But she wasn't coming, and slowly he forgot how to wait. And everything was changed.

He's a different boy now—he tells everyone and anyone that it's not Squall, it's Leon—and she wouldn't recognize him even if she was alive. And he couldn't tell anyone about it because no one was there anymore.

---

He's left alone with his thoughts in the sour rain and he pushes his coat tighter onto himself. The fur at the collar is wet and cold; goosebumps line up and down on his arms; but he's past the point of caring. People pass him by and pretend not to notice—even Yuffie has the decency to keep her lips pursed together. They all say things to him that go in one ear and out the other.

With a sigh and a sentiment that's shared by all—"some people never change"—they let him alone to do something his own way, something that's almost like mourning and almost like hoping.

But later he turns cynical again—she had always called him something beautiful, a contradiction. He's not even sure if she'll become more than a ghost, more than a memory. It's not like she was anything more to begin with. And so he's reduced to what he does now—sitting, waiting, wishing.

He's clinging to her ghost because that's all he wants that didn't die. That's all he wants that's still left.

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