Every swipe of his gunblade provides sweet relief to the anger ebbing at his mind. Slash slash slash! The satisfaction of metal slicing through leafy skin is almost euphoric, although the grat has long been dead.
"Seifer, do NOT injure your partner while training."
BAM! A bullet collides with an acid green tentacle and sends it soaring into the bushes. Seifer almost never uses the gun extension of his Hyperion, but an exception in this case is warranted.
He tries earnestly to catch her eye every time she turns her head in his direction. She throws a wary glance at the boy sitting next to him, who Seifer notices, stares down at his computer, oblivious of the longing gaze of the Instructor.
Hyperion's hilt comes crashing down on the unmoving mass of red and pink that is the grat's mouth. Of course she would be watching him in class; stupid, unknowing puberty boy. With a grunt, he kicks at the grat carcass, which has now been reduced to green and red pulp. He smirks as he imagines Squall's face on the pathetic creature, then frowns as the picture of Squall's face becomes that of Instructor Trepe. Her face always pops up at inappropriate times, making the hair on his neck stand up with the way her lips curl up in a lopsided smile. Only once had he been on the receiving end of that smile.
Shoving a tiny cardboard box in his coat pocket, Seifer lightly taps the door with a deft hand. His instincts tell him to spin around and run as fast as he can in the opposite direction, but when he hears the lock click, he stands his ground. A sharp intake of breath as the door opens with a creak.
"Seifer!" She greets him with wide eyes.
Her shock is to be expected. He is after all, breaking curfew. "May I come in?" The question sounds more like a request.
She hesitantly opens the door further to allow him entry. Seifer remains unfazed by her coldness. He watches damp strands of golden sway around her narrow waist as she leads the way into her bedroom. His eyes trail down to her exposed legs and back up as she turns around.
She frowns and crosses her arms. "To what do I owe this very late pleasure?" her tone is slightly sarcastic.
"I hear d they made you instructor." He flashes what he hopes is a sincere smile.
She frowns. "I suppose you came to make some snarky comment about that. Couldn't it have waited until morning, Seifer?"
Seifer cringes. How could she think he wanted to mock her? "I, uh…" he looks straight into her eyes, trying to communicate his feelings.
Her expression softens and she tilts her head to the side.
He clears his throat and continues, "I just wanted to congratulate you." With clammy hands he ravages his pocket, grabs the box, and thrusts it towards her.
Quistis gently takes the gift from his grasp, her dainty fingers brushing against his. He watches expectantly as she removes the orange lid, and reaches inside to pull out the silver pen he had engraved with her initials. He looks at her face as she studies the pen, a slight smile forming on her lips.
"I uh, I know you like to write, and I thought the pen would be nice since you're, uh, and instructor now and all…" Stuttering, Almasy? He scratches the back of his head.
She looks up at him with a lopsided smile. "Thank you, Seifer."
He nods and looks away. "Anyway, I should probably get going." He turns around and bolts out of the room before she gets a chance to say anything.
He recalls the memory with bitterness. That moment of weakness had resulted in avoiding Trepe for two weeks. He wipes his gunblade on the grass and sits down on a nearby rock. She never brings up the pen incident to him, but he does notice her using the pen nearly everyday in class. What does she see in Leonhart?
With a grunt, he stabs Hyperion into the ground. Since when am I a pining lover boy? After all, he had been with Rinoa for a year now. But however much he denied it, Rinoa was no Quistis, and something in their relationship remained lacking. The sight of her dancing with Leonhart tonight had barely aroused anger. Instead, he had channeled his energy on keeping a keen eye on Quistis. He now wonders why she had waited to talk to Leonhart when he had been alone and away from the party.
Rustling sounds accompanied by footsteps as two people emerge out of the small opening of the 'secret area.' Seifer watches indigently as the couple head toward the makeshift bridge. He curses. The couple is none other than Leonhart and Instructor Trepe.
Seifer runs off into the bushes to look for more grats. This is going to be a long night.
A/N: I realize Seifer may seem a bit OOC in this. I wrote this one years ago and just found it in my email. Wonder why I never posted it? Well, here it is now, unchanged and unedited, and just the way I wrote it so many years ago. I hope you enjoyed it!