Angel's Wings
This is basically set two years after the game Final Fantasy VIII and tragically the female lead Rinoa has died. It's all about Squall and how he's dealing with it, and I threw in some flashback sequences too. It's going to be very dark and angsty, so prepare yourself.
All feedback is welcomed, as well as constructive criticism.
Well, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own FFVIII or any of the related characters/places. They belong solely to Square-Enix.
Chapter One: Remembrances Sting
Lights flashing… Screaming… Blood… Children's shouts… Darkness… More blood… Fear… Panic… Screaming… Her face… His world falling apart before his very eyes…
Squall Leonhart's eyes flew open, the sunlight flooding through his window momentarily blinding him. Morning. He sighed painfully. Another day, another weight added to the burden on his heart.
He sat up, and stared down at his SeeD uniform. He didn't remember sleeping in it but then he didn't remember a lot of things now. The days seemed to have run together into a bland stream of nothingness. He felt as though he was on the edge of a chasm, a great pit of emptiness, so close in fact that just the slightest whisper of the wind could be enough to send him spiralling down into it, and he couldn't help but wonder what a relief that would be.
But he couldn't just stop. Life wasn't like that. So he rose, and began his mundane morning ritual, going through the paces robotically, only pausing once. After his shower, after struggling into another, clean uniform, his eyes fell on a photo. A photo that had sat by his bed for over two years now and no matter how many times it caught his gaze, it always managed to take his breath away.
Rinoa. He'd always loved that photo, because it seemed to capture her personality perfectly in a way that was difficult to express through mere words. She was wearing her usual bright blue outfit and was leaning casually against a balcony at Balamb Garden, the setting sun providing the perfect backdrop, its pastel colours running fluidly into one another and in beautiful contrast to Rinoa's own sharp shades, her dark hair and deep eyes. Smiling, she posed slightly for the camera, one hand on her hip, the other running self-consciously through her hair.
Never had he thought that it would one day soon be the only thing he'd have left of her. Squall swallowed slightly in an attempt to rid himself of the lump rising in his throat, and carried on getting dressed.
Not long later, he pushed open the heavy wooden door to his office, the words "Headmaster Leonhart" emblazoned in gold letters across them, and sat heavily down in his chair. The office had been specially selected for Squall not only for its practicality – the office being very close the elevator and Balamb's control room – but because of the spectacular view it provided its inhabitants.
The south wall of Headmaster Leonhart's office was devoted entirely to a window that spanned from the deep red carpet to the very ceiling. To walk over to the window and look out was to fall into a world of beauty and bliss.
As Squall surveyed the view now, he saw not beauty and bliss, or the blue sky and lazy clouds, or the vibrant fields and rolling hills. All he saw was sadness and despair. That was all he ever saw. With shaking hands he opened a packet of cigarettes lying on his desk and placed one in his mouth before lighting it. His vision blurred but he angrily blinked the tears away. Headmasters don't cry.
Eventually, he became aware of the red blinking light indicating a new message on his answer phone, its brightness penetrating his misery. His immediate reaction was to ignore it but then he considered that it may be about something important, maybe from Xu or Quistis. He pressed the button and listened.
"Hi, Squall!" chirruped a familiar female voice through the tinny speaker. "I just wanted to say that there's something I need to – uh – show you at the concert hall. It's kinda urgent, so if you could get here around nine before your morning meeting, that'd be great. Well, see you there!"
"Selphie," Squall murmured, after the message had ended. "If this is what I think it is…"
He glanced at his watch. Two minutes past nine read the digital face. He sighed and decided to go, despite his reservations. Maybe he was wrong.