Author's Note* Alright, this
is my first FF8 fanfic, so don't judge me too harshly. I've noticed that though there are thousands
of stories here, only a handful portray Irvine as the serious, soulful guy we
all know he is. So, here's my view on
him. Not too good I know, but bear with
me here. Comments are appreciated. And yes, I know its short!
* * * * * * * * * * *
Midnight. It was raining. Tiny silver drops coursed down the sides of Garden as it whirred
through the thick, foggy air. Irvine
was alone again. He rather liked these
moments he had to himself. They were
precious, and few.
Lightning pulsed the sky, creating a frightening
silhouette of the tall, lanky young man, as he lay stretched out on his
dormitory bed. His shirt was lying on
the ground, he had gotten hot earlier, and his tan, well-muscled chest lay
bare, open to the cold, empty air around him. Cold. He was used to feeling
it. After all, that's what everyone
thought he was, thought his heart was.
How wrong they all were. He surrounded himself with women in hopes that maybe he'd forget
his feelings and be happy. But it never
worked. Frivolous…uncaring…that was the
antithesis of his soul. But what had
happened to him? Where was the real
Irvine? Lost over the years, filling
the empty feeling in his heart with drinks, parties, fun… Sure, he admitted, he was always up for a
bit of play with a beautiful woman, but it never meant anything to him.
And after it was over, and he was lying alone in the
hot, smoky, sweat-filled back room of the local bar, all he wanted to ask
himself was why. He didn't need
this. But he was too far-gone to stop
now.
Then there was her…Selphie. So innocent, so pure…she fascinated him with
her adorable smile and wide-eyed, naïve green eyes. How could such a tiny girl be so sweet and full of life? He found himself thinking of her
constantly. She accepted him the way he
was. She didn't try to change him,
never criticized. No matter what he
did, she welcomed him with open, forgiving arms, allowing him to touch her, worship
her… The unthinkable had happened. Had charming, playboy Irvine Kinneas finally
found love?
Thunder rumbled,
shaking the floor. Irvine stood up and
walked to the window, his face grave. Had he? Great Hyne, how should
he know? Probably not. Love was something incapable to the hearts
of sharpshooters, he tried to assure himself. But he couldn't deny it. There
was something there…