Rating: G
Disclaimer: FF8 and all related characters/places belong to Square.
A/N: This was originally written in response to a challenge at the Seiftis Forever board.
The Dance
The tall grass lunged and swayed as if dancing to some forgotten melody carried upon a soft breeze and sunshine. Only the occasional rock broke the tides of the vast, waltzing sea. They were islands riding the undulating waves of land, standing with resolve and refusing to be swallowed by the tug and pull.
Quistis stood at the crested peak of a swell and was just as lost in the churning as the pebble at her feet.
The entire world ticked and turned around her, throbbing with life. But here, in the midst of the sweet scented grass, she'd forgotten everyone and everything. The man standing in front of her melted into the background, leaving her alone for a few aching moments with nothing but the rushing symphony of her blood.
She had never expected or foreseen what had just taken place. To say it had thrown her off guard would have been a grievous understatement. She reeled under its heavy-handed impact, her bones crushing, every fiber of her being straining. Her mind fumbled, attempting to convince her that what she had heard was wrong. He couldn't have just said those three, precious words.
But, oh…if he had?
The land seemed to boil as the wind swept by a long rush. It bent the grass over, exposing pine-green shoots. Rolled up within herself, Quistis couldn't help but feel that a tender, secret part of herself was exposed as well. With one sentence, he'd torn her open and left her naked.
She shivered.
Love.
She had already given so much to love only to be rejected and ignored, sent away by both family and friends. These were wounds that she'd tried so hard to keep hidden. Now she was afraid that he would see them, afraid he would find out what kind of power he could wield over her with those words. It was an advantage she didn't want him to have. She didn't want to further explore just how much she was willing to bleed for someone else.
Abruptly, the world came back into focus, making her reel on her feet. He stood mere inches away, waiting and watching with observant green eyes. He was a man who could kill, the kind of man others never turned their back on. Yet, he seemed to be trying his best to dig down to her very soul. His look made her squirm and she struggled to hide what she was feeling.
Sunlight fell down around them in droplets. Everything was coming apart, and the pieces floated in a trance that taunted and teased. They reminded him of the simpler life he'd once shared with her, and of a primordial truth that hummed at the back of his mind.
Seifer never thought he'd say to anyone what he'd just said to her. These were treacherous, foreign waters. As he watched her shrink away, fold in upon herself, he realized the futility of saying anything at all and cursed himself for even trying.
Love.
He'd stopped believing in it years ago. There was circumstance and timing. But eternal love? It couldn't exist. Then, without even realizing that it was creeping up on him, he woke one day to find himself trapped like a fly in the honeyed emotion. He strained against it, tried everything that he knew of to remove the unwanted ache. But it chased him and haunted him, refused to leave him be.
Then, finally…he'd found release.
Atop a fragrant hill overlooking their childhood home, he told her. Ignoring just for a moment the consequences it could have, he let his heart take rein. It had been driving him so hard, never letting him rest. And with those three words relief finally flooded into him. The tension eased, replaced with languid, fluid peace. But then she'd gone pale and withdrawn, and his entire world shattered.
She wasn't ready. Or…she didn't want what he had to offer. She hid, turned her face away.
Aching, he nodded lightly. The drops of sunlight clung to him and when he turned to leave he seemed to be doing so through molasses.
Love – torturous, wonderful thing that it was – returned to him rejected and bleeding.
Her heart swelled with pain as she watched him leave. She didn't want this, she told herself. She didn't want him. The grass pirouetted, singing and whispering otherwise.