Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters.

A Movie-Script Ending

Sun is shining, the weather is sweet, makes you want to move your dancing feet...

I'm waiting for you, same time, same place. The usual. My heart is hammering underneath the coat that hides who I am. Sunglasses hide my eyes and my scar the best they can. I even managed to find a hat to cover my blond hair. I know you have to cover yours too.

Part of the joy is the sneaking around. Nobody has a clue what we do on the second Saturday of every month. After it's over, I ache for it to come back around. I ache for you.

My heart is quickening. What if you don't come? What if you've forgotten? It's so stupid that this weakens my resolve when I've launched missiles and slashes other men's faces. That a woman would have this effect on me.

I've done stupid things for women before. But for some reason, this seems stupider than most. But then, I was never the brightest kid in the class.

Then I see you. Big sunglasses, a scarf around your bright hair. A lock of hair has escaped it's hold and blows like a flag. You look like an old fashioned actress.

You wear a rose, I carry a newspaper...

I feel like a spy in a black and white film. I can't suppress a smile. I can't suppress anything around you.

You're so swift. You don't even look at me, or at least I don't think you do; I can't see your eyes behind your glasses. You slip your arm into the crook of mine, and I lead you inside the hotel. The desk clerk barely glances at us.

"Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes, for Mr and Mrs. Jones," I say. Out of the corner of your eye, I see your mouth twitch into a tiny smile, so small that only I notice it.

"Room 141."

"Thanks." I take the key, and we're gone, into the whispering elavator. Standing next to eachother, not saying a word. You never know who you might bump into, even in a lift. I catch a reflection of us in the doors just as they slide open, and my stomach leaps.

The room is bright and blue, and overlooks the harbour. The window is open, and I walk over to close it. I don't want anyone but us hearing anything. Neither do you, probably moreso than me. You have more to lose than I do, we both know that.

Then silence.

You take off your scarf, and your golden hair cascades past your shoulders. You take off your sunglasses, and your eyes are so blue that it hurts me. Like a blade of ice to the chest. I take off my longcoat and hat just look at you.

"What?"

"You're just beautiful," I smile.

The silence settles again, and we lose control. Clothes are torn off and discarded like autumn leaves from trees. We fall like ancient oaks. The sun, the blue of the room, the gold of your hair, molten on the pillow, gasping into the crook of my shoulder as we move together. White skin, light eyes. You and I must look like angels to God right now.

You shudder with pleasure as I move inside you, and I can't help a moan escaping my lips. The light from the sun outside is so bright that I shut my eyes momentarily, but I can still see your face in my mind, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. Our ectasy peaks, we cry out, and then the light goes out of everything.

We fall asleep, still clinging to eachother, the sheets tousled and damp with sweat. Your head is on my chest, and your hair is comical, standing up, absurd cowlicks. You look so unlike the controlled, reserved instructor who used to irritate me so much. Now you look like a girl, a lovely girl. In my head, I call you mine. I don't know what you think of me, if you feel that sense of jealousy if you see me talking to another girl, or feel that tug in your chest when I walk away. I don't know. I try not to think about it, to be honest with you.

But late at night, when I'm on my own, and you're not there, I miss you.

After an hour or two, we wake up. You blink at me (that ice blue never fails to make me weak at the knees) and smile, then yawn.

Cute.

"I guess I'd better be heading back to Garden soon..." Your tone is reproachful. Gone is the passionate woman of only a few hours ago, replaced again by the cool, calculated SeeD.

"Yeah. Me too."

We dress in silence. I can't even look at you right now. I'm trying not to care, and failing miserably. You're used to me being so nonchalant, so cocky and arrogant, but it's getting harder to maintain this facade.

Tell me I'm good. Tell me you want me. Us.

"Seifer?"

"Yeah?"

You open your mouth and then close it, taking back whatever it was you were going to say. It always starts light-hearted, and always ends this way. Too intense for mere words.

"It was fun. As usual."

"It was." A cocky smirk. I could punch myself right now. I want to grab you, and kiss you again, and tell you that this is actually more to me than just sex, but I'm not going to say it until you do.

I've always been stubborn like that.

You collect your things, make sure that your sunglasses and scarf are in place, kiss me once, and then leave. But this time the kiss was different. Softer. Sadder. I could almost taste the salt from the tears that you won't ever cry.

I sit down on the bed and lie there for a while, replaying every moment in my head like a cruel film, like a torture.

I love you.

I don't know how you feel. I doubt you'll even admit any feelings to yourself. But this is something more than just mindless fucking, more than just an outpouring of frustration and boredom, more than a slap in the face to Squall, even though he'll never notice it.

I love you. And I'm not sorry.

R/R people. )