"You look upset," said she. A statement. Light, yet probing.
"I had this dream," he confessed, feeling tightness linger around his chest. "Well, a nightmare."
"What was it about?"
Briefly, he struggled for words. "You and I were there... It was dark, and I was trying to get to you. You reached for me and I tried to reach for you, but we were... stuck. I couldn't." He swallowed. Awkwardly. Spoke the rest in a rush, in hushed tones. "Then years later, people came and found our dried corpses with their hollow, sunken eyes, frozen in time and space..." And everything ended and so must they, one day both she and he would be nothing more than cold bones and a forgotten memory, although he did not say this last part aloud.
She contemplated this, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other drawing lazy circles in hair until the strands were all wound up around her fingers.
"D'you know," she said at length. "When those people came, what they said?"
It seemed inconsequential. But knowing how cryptic she could get sometimes, he shook his head. Fingertips wormed the rest of the way to his scalp and massaged the skin behind his ear.
" 'See how they're still reaching for each other in death, like it's the last thing they did? They must have loved each other very much, when they still were alive.' "
He exhaled. Closed his eyes. Leaned back against her, muscles slowly relaxing. And eventually, he spoke. "I guess they would, wouldn't they." Statement, now, as well. Not so heavy.
"Yeah, I think they would," she agreed, fingers resuming their circling. Then she leaned in, and he could feel her impish grin against the back of his head. "Then they'd put up railings and bring in school kids to ogle at our shameful remains."
He snorted a laugh in spite of himself.
And as long as that moment lasted, it was beautiful.
~fin~
A/N: A quick exercise in painting a mood with words. At first this was just a flash of inspiration that insisted to happen, but while I was writing it, I began to wonder, who does this sound like? It seems familiar. And then it hit me: Squall and Rinoa.
I don't think Squall's fear of death gets that much exposure in fandom. Maybe it's because it is a bit of an "old man fear"; probably not something all that many young people would be comfortable thinking about. But I figured, Rinoa would be just the type of person who refused to be intimidated by thoughts of people dying and things ending. And of course, she'd find ways to push her point of view in through the cracks in Squall's mental armour.
Can't believe I used to dislike this couple. And I can't believe I didn't use to like Rinoa, either.
I am stupidly proud of this, yet constructive criticism is more than welcome.