Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Final Fantasy 8 characters.
Chapter 4: Things We Know
"Why are you here?"
Seifer looks at Squall before looking up to stare at the glass dome above them. "Ah, the million gil question. Why indeed," he lightly says after a while. "Does it really matter now Squally-boy?" he teases the other man, brushing off the topic. Squall closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Like Squall, Seifer had an uncanny way of deflecting topics if he wanted to. While Squall literally just ignored, glared, cut people off completely, or all of the things mentioned, Seifer brushes people off along with their comments as if they were insignificant specks of dust on his trench coat. Squall opens his eyes again but instead of looking at Seifer, he grabs one of the forms in the small pile of work that was given to him that morning by Qusitis and inhales deeply before speaking again.
"A search party was assembled in order to find your whereabouts, as well as Fuujin and Raijin's, however the search was anything but successful," Squall's monotone echoes around the room as he reads through the form and signs. Seifer laughs at the professional tone the Headmaster has taken and sarcastically comments, "Thanks for the report oh great and mighty Commander but – "
"But," Squall cuts him off, taking his eyes off the pile of papers to glare at the blonde momentarily before grabbing another one to read. "Now, you show up out of the blue. Unless you have any good explanation as to why you want to show up now, I'll have a hard time explaining to the cadets and their parents as to why the ex Sorceress' Knight came barging in unwelcome here," he says without stopping to look at Seifer's face still staring at the ceiling, no longer smiling. "Oh man, aren't you cold as usual. You know where to hit it where it hurts don't you?" he half-chuckles, the intended sarcasm lost in the lack of conviction in his voice. The soft flapping of paper and the scratching of pen could only be heard in the room. Squall looks up from his desk, no longer irritated but observant.
"Well, you can always make up an excuse, tell them I'm here for an apology," Seifer finally answers almost indifferently, not even bothering to look at the other man who watches as he doesn't move from his spot with one foot now on the ground and one hand on his hand while the other rests on top of his stomach. From this angle, the brunette can no longer see the other's eyes. In all the years he has known him, Seifer always looked right at him when he talked, always with his defiant emerald eyes that glinted mischief. Before Squall can make out anything from his own observations, Seifer looks at him with the smirk in place. "Just make up an excuse. I'm sure you've had a lot of practice," he teases once more as he pulls himself up to a proper sitting position, arms on his thighs and his gaze elsewhere.
"I don't make excuses for people, Almasy," he answers back while he starts to work again, eyebrows furrowing at another ridiculous request before he finally crumples up the form and throws it on the reject bin. He picks up another form. "Unless you're willing to prove yourself," he suddenly mentions, and stops. Even he is mildly surprised at himself for reflexively falling into the old routine of challenging his rival. He looks up briefly from the form he is holding to find Seifer a few steps away in front of his desk, facing sideways with hands in his pockets and back slouching as he gazes at something that seems far away.
Both men look as if they haven't aged much during the past few years but close observation would say otherwise. In Squall's view, he notices Seifer's tired eyes and the bags underneath it as well as the unkempt stubble on his cheek, noting how much he must have looked like to the other man, as if they've been mirroring each other even after all these years. He breathes through his nose as he brings his hand to his face, feeling his own unshaved cheek.
"Truth be told Leonhart, I don't really care," Seifer's deadpan tone seems to weigh down on the room. As long as he could remember, Squall had always known Seifer to be the aggressive one when it came to challenges, ready to pounce on anything that could even just suggest as something he could prove himself better at. This man standing in front of his desk however doesn't seem to have the willpower to lift a finger at him even if he comes charging with Lionheart in hand. Seifer looks at him finally, an unfamiliar dull green meeting Squall's own silver blue, before closing his eyes and plastering a smirk on his face.
"But if that's what it takes, why not? Sounds like fun to me," he says as if the moment did not even happen by shrugging exaggeratingly. He walks over to the brunette's desk and plucks out the form in Squall's hands. Meanwhile, the young man still seated continues to watch the blonde as if trying to look for more clues on who is standing in front of him as the tall man makes a face before letting it drift onto the desk. "A party every weekend? I bet that's Tilmitt's idea," he scoffs and walks around the office, ignoring the observant eyes of Squall.
"You haven't answered my question, Almasy. Why are you here?" Squall questions the blonde once more. Seifer stops and leans on one of the chairs in front of the Headmaster, elbows propping up on the headrest and back bent forward as if to level his own eyes with the other man who sat in front of him. A few seconds pass by before Seifer smirks, eyes maintaining his dull, unreadable stare at Squall as he answers, "Let me throw something back at ya, Squall-boy. You don't know me." While Seifer seemed to always exude arrogance and defiance, there was always a sort of childlike sincerity to it. However, in the eyes so Squall, this man seemed so much different from the one he knew from yesteryears ago when they fought side by side during their SeeD field exam with Seifer screaming out how he would tell him his romantic dream. Squall looks back to the form on his desk and crumples it up into a ball before throwing it into the bin with force and reaching for another form. Seifer pushes himself up and walks again, boots echoing against the marble floor.
"I do not assume to. But, if you're so willing to prove yourself, then do so by training to become a SeeD again."
A/N: Revisited the reviews for this, and I am mortified. So this is a shout out to LightningFuryStrike13. If ever you do get to read this, thanks for the criticism and the encouragement. Yes, my writing a decade ago sucks and I wish you were there during that time to scold my high school self. I've taken the liberty of rewriting this horrendous thing and I can only hope it turns out just a tad better, though I definitely feel that there's gonna be something wrong with this rewrite as well. Blarg.