Selphie dreams of a Prince Charming.
He would come to her door when she was sick, bring flowers and chocolates just because he could, hold open the car door for her and tell her she looked beautiful under the glistening stars and rumble of she waves. He would get along with her temperamental father, charm her stubborn mother, caress the back of her hand with his thumb just to remind her he was thinking about her when she was down, and kiss her tears off her cheeks and whisper that everything was all right, things would get better, and that he loved her and would never leave her.
When she meets Irvine, he is not any of those things.
He's cocky, too self-assured and flirting with anything that has a figure. He argues too much, takes his frustrations out on wandering fiends, slams doors in his wake and drinks too much black coffee. His hat never leaves his sight and his sleeps with his shotgun within reach, fingers twitching on invisible triggers and non-intelligible murmurs escaping his mouth.
Selphie watches him sleep once, face lit up by the dying embers of the fire, too transfixed by the peaceful look shadowing his features to almost miss the fiend creeping up behind them.
The war is over and things are settling down – Rinoa and Squall are rarely seen without each other, Quistis disappears for hours at time to Balamb when she's not helping Xu sort things out, and Zell goes to the library far more than she thinks is healthy for him. She's stuck in her dorm room, sniffling away with her stuffed nose and tissues littering the ground, curled up in her bed with hot chicken soup when the knocking at her door starts.
She calls, it's open, and falls silent when a hesitant Irvine strides, tipping his hat in her direction almost automatically while taking in the scene of her messy room. Selphie blushes as he raises one eyebrow before turning to her in amusement.
"I'm contagious," she blurts out before he can say anything and her cheeks are now matching red spots. Irvine stares at her for a few silent seconds before chuckling deep in his throat, his long legs already taking him to the edge of her bed.
"You think some common little cold can harm the great Irvine?" He boasts, teasing, while taking the forgotten bowl of cooling chicken soup from her hands. She stares at him this time as he scoops up a spoonful and holds it up to her with a grin on his face. "Now open wide."
She doesn't know what to say.
Selphie doesn't believe in fairytales. Her happy endings are only playing in her mind, video reels of fantasies that circle her head like the wishful thinking they are.
She doesn't think there are any Prince Charmings in the world, but as she and Irvine tumble down the grassy hill in laughter, all tangled limbs and bruised skin, stopping at the bottom and falling silent as he looks down on her, arms splayed down on either side of her small body, her heart skips a beat.
"Selphie," Irvine whispers her name, and she waits for a few minutes as he says nothing. Growing impatient and embarrassed of the awkward position they are in, she's just about ready to push him off when he repeats her name again.
"Selphie," his breath fans over her forehead and her hair, making her shiver as his eyes stare down at hers, half in amazement half in realization. "I think I'm in love with you."
Selphie believes there are no Prince Charmings in the world. Irvine Kinneas is certainly not one to be her prince, but he's close enough and the words he says make her want to cry out in happiness anyways.
She's always though that it's never too late to start believing.