Summary: A drabble of sorts… Basically Squall's thoughts as he stands at the SeeD graduation dance, and then spots Rinoa. I added in some things that occurred before the "dancing" cut-scene even started for the sake of character development.
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VIII no es mio, desufortunadamente. (is not mine, unfortunately. No se. Me gusta Español mucho… Ok, I'm strange.) Nor is the amazing ballad this fiction is based off of, which is under the ownership of the amazing and godly Josh Groban.
--------
So She Dances
--------
A OneShotSongFanFic
HIS BLASÉ sliver-blue gaze drifted to the floor, distant from the ample jubilance surrounding him. This was all for him, and those echoing his accomplishments. He was unappreciative. He was indifferent. He honestly could care less.
This is pointless. His open mind spat. There's a war going on, and all they can do is …Dance?
A SeeD Graduation Dance. Oh, what an endlessly tedious event. Or at least it was in the icy glance of Squall Leonhart. Earlier, he was running for his life, listening to the clanking of aberrant, spider-like machinery approaching him as if it would be the last thing his ear would ever conceive. Thankfully, it was not. But how could all be so lax, so lofty and thoughtless after such a close call in Dollet?
The new SeeD tugged his required raiment, half attempting to pass the time by playing with the sleeve; the other half to expel the inexplicable amount of nervousness he had built up under the watchful eyes of his superiors. Did he care what people thought? No, not usually. But now it mattered: his rank; his paycheck depended on it.
Dubbing the fabric a lost cause of distraction, Squall lifted the drink previously handed to him to his lips. The smell wavered through his nostrils. Alcohol. How irresponsible of the Garden. These are armed mercenaries. With impaired judgment…That's unsettling. Despite this thought, though, he gulped the champagne down greedily and then continued his starring contest with the floor of the Garden's Ballroom.
His eyes continually followed the golden, intricate pattern spread upon the large tiles. On them, people moved with the music, scuffing his current point of focus in the process. On a far off piece of surface near the center of the room landed a single elegant shoe.
This shoe, Squall found, was attached to an elegant pair of legs, attached to the graceful body of a cream-donned dancer. Her ghostly white skin seemed to glow in the sea of gold that held her waltzing self. Carelessly and alone, she lifted her limbs, and spun, and swayed, and stopped, and repeated. She did not need a partner. The music moved with her just fine.
…Even her shadow
has grace
A waltz for the girl out of reach
She lifts her hands
up to the sky
She moves with the music
The song is her
lover
The melody's making her cry
So she dances
In and out
of the crowd like a glance…
Squall could not see her face; it was either not facing him or covered by the heads of her fellow wistful floor-bound friends. All he could see was her dancing, and long black hair that shimmered as she moved.
His heart sped up to match the tempo of the current enchanting refrain. He thought surely his dancer would catch him if he starred any longer.
A waltz for the
chance I should take
But how will I know where to start?
She's
spinning between constellations and dreams
Her rhythm is my
beating heart
Looking away required looking up, which he did, just as the melody changed to something even he would have recognized. However, it did not matter; every sense he owned was now centered on nothing but the expansive night sky peeking its way through the glass dome atop the Balamb Garden dance hall.
Through the intrados of the window was the massive, bright moon plagued with bottomless craters, and a glimmeringly dark night, untouched and unfeigned by the radiance coming from the Garden. The only source of light that dared to try to shine through the opaque cover of the evening was the stars. It was then when one of these rebels of light shot across the black blanket.
Maybe it was the setting, or the alcohol, or some outer-worldly force, but something in that second-less stretch of time caused Squall, a regimented, mature strict mercenary, wished upon the star that crossed the sky, merely in jest. He wished to see the dancer's face.
Ennui possessed him to let his eyes fall back on the floor, and quite unexpectedly, beneath the dome was the girl in the cream-gold dress, ever so softly swaying in the moon-light. The raven haired young women turned on her heel, revealing, finally, her entire face to Squall, and spotting him the process. They locked eyes. An amative viewing was now transforming into a beckoning romance.
So she dances
In
and out of the crowd like a glance
This romance is
From afar
calling me silently
He did not show it, but he immediately became embarrassed. His mind raced: Now that she caught me looking… I can't keep on watching forever…I give up this view just to tell her…
She smiled. He blushed. She pointed. He followed the point. He nodded. She began walking to him. He couldn't help but shift nervously, either though her body language reassured him. Within a blink, she suddenly appeared in front of him.
That night, he was to put up a fight when she was to eventually drag him onto the floor, but in reality, it was exactly what he wanted her to do.
When I close my eyes
I can see
The spotlights are bright on you and me
We've got the
floor
And you're in my arms
How could I ask for more?
A SeeD Graduation Dance. Oh, what an endlessly life changing event.
--------
A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed it! R&R, please!
–Pink Moogle