Title:
To Be.
Rating: K+
Pairing: Guess. Yaoi.
Summary: Squall reflects what and who he misses the most.
After the War.
Notes: I blame you. . and yeah, you
know who you are. Unbeta'd unfortunately so all mistakes are mine.
"To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come?
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,"
These words haunt me even now…perhaps because they were the last words I heard said off his lips. Whoever thought he could be so poetic? That he could be so knowledgeable? Certainly not me; and yet, I should have. I should have known it as we sat in my dorm studying for our 'normal classes'. Things that had nothing to do with Garden, we just had to study in case we ever had to talk to civilians on a mission. It was almost painfully obvious, in his speech, his manner, and thought process. Not always logical, but always knowledgeable. He made it seem like he took up more space then he did, because he had confidence in himself. His logic, his strength and his knowledge. I Miss him. If I ever dared say that out loud, honestly I'm not sure what would happen. But I fear it. 'Why' would be the question most asked, I think. Once they figured out they 'whom'.
In truth, there are a lot of things I miss about him. His arrogance, his power, he annoyed me, and I even his that. Though, if you had to ask me what I missed most, I wouldn't be able to say it. I'd name a close second instead…his warmth. People often describe him having this…fire around him. "He's like the sun…" Your repulsed and yet drawn to him. But you know if you get to close, you'll burn, and die, and only your ashes will mourn you.
'People' if you choose to ask them, would describe me as ice. "Polar opposites." They'd say if you were to ask them about us. But some would whisper as you walked away… "Some say opposites attract…" Scorn then. Disbelief and bafflement; People would watch and people would wonder. They'd never actually ask though, which in a sense was good, because he was honest, and would give them an answer no matter if they wanted to hear it.
They're staring at me now, asking questions and wondering, wondering what on my mind, wondering if I'll respond. They should know by now, having had me around for as long as they have that I won't, can't answer when like this. I have to finish my train of thought. Otherwise these words will taunt me and torment me all day. Daring me to think about them, daring me to get lost in a fantasy of what will never happen. Surely, as if those dares and jeering belonged to him, I accept. Because if someone asked me, what I missed the most, asked me in a voice that spoke of confidence and sunshine, and dared me to answer. I would have. And in my head, where there's only my own thoughts and that phantom of him to laugh at me. I admit it. Because what I miss the most, is my name on his lips…
"Squall." Echo's in my ears, and I miss him. Like know one would ever know.