Autumn, and another festival. The leaves were falling into Squall's hair, but he barely noticed, tucked away in a corner to enjoy the festival in his own way. He was always thinking, always quiet, and Seifer decided to let him alone. It was fun, teasing him, but there were times when that wasn't called for and Seifer knew it well. The leaves, red and brown and gold, looked good against Squall's dark hair. Seifer found himself wishing that he could sit beside Squall and pick every leaf out, and then run his fingers through the soft spider-silk hair. Sit in the comfortable quiet and enjoy the festival in Squall's way, for once.
"SEIFER," Fujin said beside him, and he turned away, and ignored the teenager sitting in his quiet way. Squall celebrated the autumn Garden Festival his own way, and that way wasn't Seifer's.
"Right, let's go and do something, now you're finally here," he said, with his usual smirk, but he couldn't help a glance over his shoulder at Squall. The boy was his sparring partner, just that, but somehow he felt like something more. A friend, but that word was so wrong for what they had. A brother, but that was even worse.
Seifer gave up on the puzzle and let the general air of the festival tug him away from such thoughts. Squall would be there the next Garden festival, and the next, and after that they would be SeeDs, and he had all the time in the world to figure out what Squall meant to him.
Autumn again, and another festival, this time after the sorceress war. Squall caught one of the falling leaves in his hand, crushed it into little dry pieces that clung to the dark leather of his glove. For once, he felt secure, knowing he wasn't going to be disturbed. No one would dare to disturb the Commander, after all.
But the sanctity of the solitude had left him. There was no reason to hide away anymore, no arrogant, annoying, perfect blond to watch. No reason to be sat examining his feelings and wondering, wondering if that would be the year that Seifer came to him instead of just looking. No reason to wonder why Seifer was looking at him.
No Seifer at all.
There had been a calm in the quiet corner, before. It had been soothing, to watch the leaves fall and whirl and spiral in their own dizzy dances. He hadn't minded the leaves that landed in his hair and had to be picked out later. But now, the leaves just irritated him, and the calm just echoed the emptiness inside him. And this time he wasn't examining his feelings, he was avoiding them.
Because it hurt to admit that, now, when Seifer was gone, having followed a sorceress and never come back, he might have the courage to admit to himself and to Seifer that he was in love.
Late autumn, and almost all the leaves had already fallen. No festival this year. It would be a mockery and a sham, really. With the Commander only just dead, it would have been a disrespect, and in the Garden, smiles were banned at the moment. People walked around feeling numb. They knew how much they'd lost. Even that quiet place where he had once sat knew it. The leaves fell, missing the beauty they gained shining against his dark hair.
Heroes die young. Seifer had known it, and known with that thought that he should have found Squall straight away. Because people don't wait around for you to say something they never believed you were capable of feeling anyway.
He sat back and closed his eyes, and imagined until every leaf falling soft gold, still green at the edges, and brushing at his face was almost Squall's fingertips. He wondered if it was possible to kiss a ghost.
He opened his eyes but he didn't see that autumn. He saw so many phantoms, the scraps of the past spiralling around him like the leaves. He saw himself looking at Squall and he wanted to shout, and ask himself why he didn't just suck it up and admit to himself that he loved that boy. Not a brother, not a friend, not just a rival.
He could even see the way he had looked at Squall and he wondered how it was possible for him not to have known. But love – and rivalry – blinds people to the truth.
Seifer bent his head and felt the soft kiss of the leaves against his skin and wished Squall was there and there was another Garden Festival and that he was brave enough. He knew that a relationship between them could never have been smooth, but it was trying that was the important part.
He'd never really cried before.
"SEIFER," Fujin called to him, with all the gentleness she could manage. For once, he didn't lead her and Raijin off. He didn't even follow.
Autumn, and another festival. The little corner where Squall had always sat was empty, and every leaf that fell was a tear for him and the kisses that should have been, could have been, would have been shared there. There was no one to watch the festival this time, and no one to look through the hanging leaves and watch the boy who watched.
Nobody noticed the loss of Seifer. It was one of those things. Accidents can happen, they knew it, and Seifer had known it. Accidentally-on-purpose was a good way to go. All the time in the world had run out surprisingly fast for both of them.
The festival went on and the leaves carried on dancing.