This fic was a request from my beloved. :)
A Wedding to Remember, by D.F. Strife
It was the night before their wedding, and Squall was poised like a statue. Not so stiff as a cactuar, but mostly deadpan and unmoving. His usual, really. He'd found himself in Hotel Timber's bar, hanging back while various noises hummed in and out of his awareness. The loudest of the bunch were those he called friends. Zell was wasted of course and getting his butt whooped and billiards against Laguna. He'd already been told twice not to punch anything, though the only victim of his wrath was the air, and the hat on Irvine's head. Speaking of which, Irvine had vacated the billiards table in favor of having a smoke at the bar. Bull's Eye Bob was on television, and he liked to chill and zone out to it.
The only one who was missing was Seifer, who had declined the invitation to come downstairs and bum around. He claimed weddings were bad enough without the without the hangover. Fujin and Raijin agreed, also declining the offer, but Squall didn't really care. He knew why they weren't here on a night like this. It'd just be awkward.
The ladies had all whisked the bride-to-be away for their own festivities, which was fine by Squall. He was having a hard enough time trying to unwind without the direct cause of his jitters present. It didn't suit his carefully crafted image, but then again neither did getting married. The world was just full of wonders.
Squall knocked back a bourbon and decided he could kill his brain enough to tolerate one game of billiards with Zell. The night wouldn't be complete without making his loud friend's head explode at least once, and maybe once for Seifer, too. That should be enough to keep these guys from pestering him too much once he decided to hit the hay.
Really, it was all too much now. He'd already had two Bachelor first was a relatively tame event at Balamb Garden, courtesy of Cid. Well, Selphie and Quistis mostly. It was stuffy, involved way too much talking, gawking, and squealing. He thought such events were guys only, but he was happy to leave it at that once it was over. Zell and Irvine weren't, though. A week after that they all had to head straight to Esther, where Laguna splurged on music, kegs, and strippers. Holy mother of Shiva. Strippers, in screaming red G-strings and cat ears. Gil flew, butts twerked. Squall even went home with a doggy bag that night: five gallons of lube, heart-shaped nipple tassels (why?), anal beads (why?), and a twenty pack of strawberry condoms.
"I heard through the grape vine that strawberry is Rinoa's favorite," Irvine told him with a wink. Squall knew that already, though. He knew lots of stuff about Rinoa, and loved every single one of her quirks.
What he loved best, though. Man, where does he begin? The soft, breezy smell of her hair. The rosy, supple touch of her lips. Her radiant warmth. Her sweet voice. The sex wasn't half bad either. What he loved the most, though, made all of those perks pale in comparison. She had the patience while he drifted away in thought. She had the confidence that kept them both grounded in his whirlwind of insecurity. Alone he was a gray field of wilted flowers, and she was his sunshine and his rain, willing him to bloom. She broke through his iron gates, and kept his fractured being whole.
And what Squall loved so much about her was that she knew. She knew all of these feelings, perhaps more yet to be discovered. She knew his feelings. She knew his feelings. She knew them in his arms, in his lips, in every moment they shared. She knew him inside and out, and he didn't have to say a thing, which was the best thing about it. His iron gates were his to lock, and only hers to unlock. She had tremendous power over him, yet all she used it for and to love and love him more, and he felt so full of her. So complete.
These were the things that made petty annoyances like Bachelor parties worth it. Tomorrow she would be his light, his love, his Rinoa Leonhart.
"Quit moping, lover boy. It's time to clobber ass," said Zell, poking him with a billiards stick.
"...whatever," said Squall, grabbing his own stick. Now was the last night of his life, according to Irvine. Of course, playboys like that see marriage as an end, but Squall saw it as a beginning.
Squall woke up the next morning with cotton mouth and a screaming headache, most peculiar, seeing as he hadn't had nearly enough to drink to garner such a reaction. He also had a dull ache in his chest, though he wrote it off as anxiety.
Everyone got the jitters on their wedding day, so it seemed.
The effort to bathe and clothe himself was arduous at best, and it seemed like no matter how much he brushed he couldn't get that rotten flavor out of his mouth. In one of the guys spiked his pop with anything funny last night then they'll be eating the end of a freshly sharpened gunblade at some point.
Perhaps the strangest thing still was how he barreled out of the hotel lobby. He was almost late, but was in a weird sort of daze. His balance wasn't great, and his ears gave an eerie hum. Again, he wrote it off as anxiety. Jitters. Maybe a little hangover. Once he was with Rinoa, all would be well. He knocked back a handy hi-potion just in case.
The wedding was taking place in Timber, a place Squall and Rinoa held dear. The buzz of motor vehicles could be heard from every which direction. Eventually he had to cross the tracks to get to his friends and future wife, but in the confusion of his swimming mind and confounding noises he'd missed an obvious threat.
"Squall, look out!" Rinoa screamed, but it was too late. The train rammed Squall dead on, its screeching wheels dragging meat and bone for miles down the track.
"SQUALL!"
"Oh Squall..." said Rinoa with a sniffle. "You were such a jerk, but you didn't deserve an icicle through the chest. Sorceress Edea will pay!"
That's right. The past year and a half of Squall's "life" was just a hallucination thrown together by his dying mind. The train smashing him into Squall burger symbolizes the collapse of all his vital organs, and his brain experiencing tissue death due to lack of blood and oxygen. His final vision was of himself without a face. Doomtrain ate it.
Like Ash, Squall was in a coma all along. And now he's dead.
The End