Chapter One – Squall
To me, she was like cherry blossom. Sweet and colourful, utterly beautiful, leaves falling in autumn and flowers blossoming in spring. Those were all things I could be sure of – I felt safe and warm, knowing that this cycle was unchanging and constant, feeling like I needed that kind of security. I knew that if she ever left me, like Sis, she would come back, because nature determined it. She was something I could be sure of.
When she kissed me, it was like spring. I felt a muted rush of euphoria, a sense of wonder like a million flowers had burst out of the ground and showered upon us like confetti. She could save me, she always would. Kissing her was like making sure that this was real, that while I protected her she would protect me, stop me losing hope. Kissing her was like a dream. And dreams always end. And if they were good dreams, you would wake up disappointed, and if they were bad dreams, you would be scared of ever sleeping again. She was like a dream because I never expected more from her. Although she was beautiful, I never wanted more from her than for her to just be there for me, because she was pretty and kind and I'd fallen for her, because I wanted to fall for her. She was nothing exciting, nothing I would long for. But she was safe.
Now he was more like the leaves that fell in autumn. They didn't fall often, so you would anticipate them with a kind of excitement that you couldn't show because, really, what would people think of you for being excited about leaves? You waited because they were absolutely stunning, golden brown and oh-so fragile, and you would pick one up and crumple it because that was what you really wanted to do.
When he kissed me, I burned. Inside and out, I burned for him. The ice on my lips melted and I would cling to him because I was so scared of losing this heat. He would burn me and I would freeze him and we'd journey together into the unknown, fire and ice, completing each other and hurting each other and everything inbetween. Since before this all began we'd done this, moving against each other, completely unchoreographed and messy and so damned incredible that I always wanted more. I couldn't understand it, wouldn't let myself fall for him because, Hyne, I'd fallen too far already. I never ever safe in his arms but I would never let him just kiss me because I always wanted more. I always wanted all of him because I loved the pain. I loved how his glare penetrated deep into my very core and how we'd never talk about it because neither of us could understand it, but we knew it felt good. After the war, it was better because I knew what it meant to feel and he knew what it meant to love, and in my office and on the balcony and in the dorms I'd let him take me completely, and we'd both come treacherously close to admitting what we felt but we never would, and I would go back to her and he would go back to them and I'd have to wait for autumn all over again.