Squall wrapped the blanket tightly around him. At six years old, he was small, skinny, almost fragile (though he could hold his own against the older boy, Seifer, when he put his mind to it). During storms like this, he'd usually sneak into bed with Seifer, but Seifer wasn't there. Seifer was somewhere out there in the storm, soaked, freezing to death, and that thought was a sobering, and very frightening, one.

He knew that storms like that could be very dangerous. He remembered the dead monsters washed up on the beach after the last storm. He remembered how damaged the Orphanage had been, the buckets that had to be placed under holes in the tiles where water dripped through until a man came to fix it. The man had warned Matron about the storms, said she should close the little place down, but she had said something about it being all the children had.

He knew Matron would keep them safe, if they stayed inside, and that would normally be a comforting thought. But Seifer was outside, and Matron didn't know, because Seifer was breaking rules again, as always. And it was Squall's fault.

And he whimpered a bit, hoping Seifer would come home safe, soon. Wet, cold, but repentant, maybe a little sick, but alive. As repentant as Squall, who had caused him to storm off like that.

He had been quite rude, and Matron (and Quistis) would be disappointed in him, because Seifer's stalking out was his fault. Just because he had said that two boys couldn't get married, what did that really matter? If Seifer wanted to marry him, who cared about stupid rules?

He was sorry, very sorry, sorry enough to think about running outside into the rain and look for Seifer.

But it would be cold and wet out there, and Matron had told him to stay dry; he caught cold easily. Just another few minutes and he would go...

He stared at the door, waiting for it to open.

It didn't budge.