and she note: for all you know, i own these characters, because i didn't mention any names. unfortunately, i don't own the characters. don't steal this. like you'd wanna. ;p stay tuned, little buddies, for more versions of this crapfic.


and she. another crapfic from malloreigh.

It's been a while since then.

We were foolish, but then, we were only kids. There's not much we can do other than shrug our shoulders and say, "We're sorry. We didn't mean to hurt anyone." But is that really true? We were fully aware of what we were doing at the time and we felt it was right, so I suppose we did mean to cause all of the damage that we caused.

I wonder how he is. I wonder who he's been with, who he's gone back to, where he's living. I wonder if he still remembers me. It hasn't been that long, five or six years, but GF can do strange things to one's mind. I've been alone all this time, ever since we parted on that easily forgotten but forever-remembered day on the docks of Balamb. Not… entirely alone, not the whole time. But for most of it… yes, I have been alone.

But I've never forgotten him. My first love and forever my last love, despite the fact that he has no idea how I feel. But then romantic tragedy has been done to death, hasn't it? I think that even if I had ended up in his arms our last day, my life would still end a tragedy. It's impossible to avoid. Or perhaps I'm only sad, reasonlessly so.

I have thought for ages, years and years and years, about how I feel for him, but even if he were to appear in the doorway, a golden silhouette impossible against the fading grey of the city skies, I would not be able to tell him. I would remain silent as always, whispering a tiny word every once in a while as response to his stories and plots and plans and dreams.

Oh, the dreams.

But I am losing track again; I can never collect my thoughts in the manner of most, they're always scattered by that ever-elusive wind.

And she touches him, fingers trailing over the frame of his face, lips brushing against his – they are lovers of opposites, silver and gold.

He is, of course, not alone. He could never be alone. Adored by all, that is what they said – no matter how much you hated him you could not resist loving him. He had this aura about him that made one feel as if they could challenge the world and win. Even his rival, his mortal enemy, admitted that the White Knight gave him that unbeatable feeling.

Unlike me. I'm alone, so alone, and cold! Cold beyond belief in this hell of a room in the white depth of winter, where I used to feel so welcome. The wind howls outside but it howls without lifting my heart into its song. I lie to myself, I have always been alone. Without him I will always be alone, no matter what. And I will not take a lover who does not bear his soul.

I have taken one friend. A friend, and that only – but he is gone now. Left me for better things, sunnier pastures and warmer smiles. I wonder where the other is, the third of ours. He's gone too, living his own life somewhere where I am not.

Perhaps they are together, keeping each other company in their new lives. Perhaps they wonder where I am.

They will never wonder where I am.

And she rests in his arms, strong, strong arms, listening to the sound of his breathing as he sleeps – they go back a long time, these two.

What is this? Pure emotion? Why can't I be the same old me, quiet, with no emotion other than anger? But then I was never that – it was just a face I put on. Convinced them all, no-one questioned.

I think he knew…

And she smiles softly as the sun rises, casting shadows over every curve and angle that their intertwined bodies provide. He is not gone and it has dawned morning. She is happy.

Haven't been happy for so long. Too long.

And she is kissed awake by seeking lips. His hands are so firm as they explore her, not once again but simply again, but she places her hands over his to stop him, silencing his protests with another kiss. It's heaven.

And she sighs.