Right at first, it was just fucking perfect. They were fourteen and fifteen, respectively, shared classes, loved their weapons which, incidentally, were both gunblades. They had perfect fights – perfect even despite the little slips and the imperfections because Seifer loved to watch Squall's face when he was lost in a fight, and Squall loved the feeling of letting go of the world, putting his life in Seifer's hands and just trusting him to play fair.
Their first kiss was pretty damn predictable, anyway. It was in the training center. After hours. They needed a break. So they went into the secret area to stay out of the way of the monsters. There was no one else there, it was that late, and Seifer stretched and smirked and watched Squall.
They lent against the wall together, talking, and for both of them there was this perfect moment. Like the clichéd moment in a movie when time seems to slow to a halt and stand still for a few long, slow heartbeats.
Well, their hearts were racing, and they were about to kiss, but it was still that kind of idea. A perfect moment.
After that, well, if Squall was happy to have someone to talk to, Seifer was addicted to having Squall around. For kissing, for holding, and still for fighting. And later, when Squall was barely fifteen, for sex.
It was perfect sex, too. Seifer was nervous and Squall was shaking, but kissing put them at ease and then Seifer lowered them to the bed, laying Squall down on it and kissing him like he was something precious. He fucked him and called it making love, and the fact that they were so young didn't matter – like all young couples, they were going to last forever.
Seifer couldn't get enough of Squall, anyway. He saw him across a room, across a classroom, and he wanted him with a hopeless ache that wouldn't go away until he got him. He'd press Squall against walls, desks, the ground, kissing him as if he never wanted to stop.
Squall was Seifer's first love.
Squall had never been very good with feelings; never would be. Seifer wanted more from him than sex, more than intimacy, he wanted words that Squall didn't have, couldn't say.
He had a feeling it was typical.
Still, he couldn't get Squall out of his head. And apart from that lack of words on that one subject, the rest of it was still perfect. Sometimes Squall would sleep in his room and he'd wake up in the morning with Squall sprawled with him, bodies so entangled it was a five minute job separating sleep-confused limbs. And it was a wonderful feeling, getting up on a morning for a shower and looking at Squall and feeling that tight, possessive feeling, and all that love.
It got to the point where Squall's room was more than half full of Seifer's stuff, and vice versa. Sometimes it was a case of not, "are you coming to my room tonight?" but "which of our rooms are we using?" Squall would wear Seifer's shirts when he was sitting around and cold. They'd study together, in a tangle of warmth and comfortableness that usually ended up being counter productive.
It was one of those rare times in their lives that both of them were happy.
Perhaps it was typical, and it couldn't last.
But Seifer hated the very thought.
Sometimes now he didn't bother spending time with Raijin and Fujin. They didn't seem to matter any more, because what he really wanted to do was be with Squall. And Squall never protested. He was never exactly enthusiastic, either, but Seifer knew that was Squall's way.
As they got a little older, they started having to be separated more. Seifer had practice field missions and then, finally, the field exam. He hung back, refused to pass, waiting for Squall to be ready too. But he still had to go away, and then Squall had practice missions and long sessions in the training center and finally Seifer was playing second fiddle to Squall's career, and he hated it.
Squall could ask why Seifer felt so bad all he liked. He could promise to be there and Seifer would smile and stroke his hair and kiss him, kiss him stupid, kiss himself better, and they'd be alright for a time. Seifer knew that Squall loved him. Squall didn't have to say a word. That was comfortable and they liked it, it was good.
And then it suddenly took a turn for the worse, because Seifer needed more of Squall than Squall could even give, let alone more than he wanted to give. Arguments, every day almost, until Squall was ready to give up. He closed right up again, cold and hard, and it just fell apart.
Seifer went to Squall to tell him that it was over. And he didn't know him anymore, didn't know that cold, pinched expression or the apathy in Squall's eyes. It might've hurt to know that he'd put it there with his jealousy, but he didn't know and he was also far too proud to ever admit he was in the wrong.
And so it went.
They'd given up. They still fought, some days, and the old arguments from when they were a couple came back to put a new spark into it. Seifer went back to hanging around with Raijin and Fujin, more than ever before, as if trying to make up to them for the way he'd neglected them when with Squall.
Sometimes Squall would look up at Seifer and take a deep breath, as if he wanted to say something. And Seifer would always lean closer because secretly, he still wanted to hear Squall say those special words. He wanted to be told that Squall still loved him. He'd have liked to know that Squall missed him as much as missed Squall. But Squall always just sighed and went on with whatever he was doing.
And sometimes Seifer came close to apologising for his jealousy. But then he thought it had been Squall's damn fault for not talking about love. So he'd close his mouth on the words and bite them back. That was the closest they came to reconciliation.
That was all. That was it.
They'd never been meant to be forever.
