I lied to her.
Perhaps it wasn't the biggest lie in the world, maybe it won't ever be one of those lies you feel the need to expose, more than likely I will forget about it in an hour or two. But the fact of the matter is that she asked me what I was thinking, and I lied to her. Maybe overblowing this situation already redeems me, showing my reluctance to lie about even such a trifling thing, but it still doesn't make me feel any better. It wasn't even a complete lie. She asked me what I was thinking and I said it was what Laguna said. And I had. I had thought about that previously. But my train of thought on that subject had passed; coming to the same conclusion I had a few days prior. He was right.
When she asked me what I was thinking about, I was thinking about her. I was thinking about what I was going to ask her. I was thinking about when I should do it, and where and how. Maybe I had subconsciously overdramatized the entire situation, but I'm determined not to think myself into inaction as I've done so many times in the past. This is too important, too right, too perfect to mess it up with such a careless abandon into the bad habits she's tried to wean me from.
"Hey, what was that thing you were going to ask me about before?"
For a moment, I wonder if sorceress powers come complete with mind-reading abilities, but when I see genuine and innocent curiosity across her face, I discard it as paranoia. Still feeling a bit like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, I avert my gaze.
"Nothing."
"Oh, it's something alright, you're blushing!"
"No I'm not." Oh, that was brilliant.
"Oh, so your cheeks just get red periodically?"
"Yes."
"Oh, shut up and tell me!"
"I can't."
"Why not?" Her voice isn't whining, as it sometimes has a tendency to be when she questions me intensely on these subjects, but instead was genuinely concerned. My thoughts flashback briefly to the intensity with which she kissed me on the Raganarok, when she thought I was slipping again into my own little world. So I sigh, and try to make her understand, not just my words, but also my entire body.
"Just trust me, okay? I'll tell you before the week is up, I promise."
I could see a little reluctance in her, her mouth half-open in protest. My mind screamed that this wasn't the when or where or how, and prayed that Rinoa could hear those silent pleas. She took a deep breath, and I half- winced, expecting a plea of her own. Not very romantic or understanding, I know, but it wasn't too long ago when she was berating me for acting callous towards my friends.
"Okay."
I relax, and I think it must have been pretty visible, because she smiles to herself as she does so, going to take a bite of her broccoli. I take in every detail of just this simple motion, the odd (at least to me) way in which she holds her fork, the graceful curve of her arms, expression on her face as she enjoys her food. I want to take any excuse possible to touch her right now.
"Do you want to dance?"
And she almost chokes on her food, her eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. She swallows her food near instantly. I laugh inwardly at how eager she is.
"Yes! Let's go!"
I'd like to say that my second trip to the dance-floor ever was with a little more dignity than my first but, actually, it fairly well mirrored it. Rinoa grabbing my hand and literally dragging me into the middle of it. That was the only reminder, however, as the steps of the dance Rinoa had taught me came rushing back into the forefront of my brain. I'm sure true dancers will tell you that you have to feel the music intimately to properly dance to it, that merely memorizing the steps shows and exposes you as an amateur. But I know that, in that moment, I don't think I heard the music at all. All I heard was each of Rinoa's breath, perfectly in tune with my heartbeat.
There was no one else there. Or, at least, it didn't seem like it. We moved through the other dancers and each other like liquid, the music the only thing that kept our form intact. I felt positive that I would be ridiculed when the dance finished, but that negative thought was nestled away in the deep recesses of my head. There was only us. There was no one else there.
Finally we stepped together, my hand reaching instinctively for her waist, my hand grasping hers. And, instead of stopping our dance a reasonably platonic distance apart, we let ourselves melt into each other, continuing the dance as one being, one entity. I know, my thoughts are getting sappy and cliché, but words can only convey so much of the emotion you're trying to intend before their meanings get lost. Maybe it was some of the reason I didn't talk, because I could never properly externalize with words what my head was saying.
The music faded away into silence, but couldn't bear to wrench myself away from her, even to move. Her head on my chest, right against my heart, my fingers entwined with hers on one hand, the other wrapped around her waist. It was a simple pleasure, and one that I was reluctant to give up. But we broke as reluctantly as new lovers do, and made our ways back to our seats, and instead of the expected ribbing, I received merely smiles of understanding.
"Sheesh, Squall, you and Rinny are good at that! You gotta teach Irvy sometime, he was stepping on my feet and everything!" Selphie's playful voice shot out, as she again tried in vain to knock the cowboy hat off of Irvine's head. Every time she does that, she makes the oddest little noise, which only prompts a cocky smile from Irvine. It's a bizarre exchange that I don't really understand, but is funny nonetheless.
"Yeah, man. The girl who asked me to dance left me in the middle of the dance floor! I just stood there looking like a moron!" Irvine and I both laughed.
"Rinny, if Squall's gonna teach the two guys, you gotta teach us two, too! That way every time there's a Seed graduation party we can impress everybody with how good we do!" And that got the girls to chorus in as well.
"Rinoa and Squall can teach a course at Garden for cadets about to go on their SeeD exam. Waltzes and Tangos 101." Quistis chimed in. And, while I continue laughing, that triggers something in the back of my mind.
I'm leaving Garden.
I'm LEAVING Garden.
I'm leaving GARDEN.
I'M leaving Garden.
Irvine and Zell crack a couple good jokes consecutively, and I continue laughing, but it's a dull, hollow sound now. I realize that a week from now I will wake up, go to breakfast and not have these faces staring back at me. Will not have their jokes or smiles. Will not have their vices or virtues. Will not have them berating me when I do something wrong, or smiling at me in understanding when they think I've done right.
I quickly shake away that mode of thinking. I won't ever see them again after this week; I promise myself that I will visit them often. I promise myself that they won't lose touch. And, for maybe the first time, I've started making promises I can keep.
"Squall!" Zell's voice shakes me out of my reverie.
"What?"
"Rinoa asked you a question."
My head turns to her.
"I asked if you thought of seriously doing something like that. Teaching a dance class at Garden when we got back. Because Quistis said that Cid would probably enjoy the idea, and that he could pair it as part of the criteria for espionage courses."
I sigh. I didn't want to do this early in the week. I really didn't. But the issue had been forced. I thank Hyne that I had been fingering the box in my pocket every day for the past month, waiting for this moment.
"Guys, I have two things to say."
I take a deep breath, and hope I can do this.
------------------------
"Guys, I have two things to say."'
There's an uncomfortable glint in Squall's idea. Like he doesn't want to do this here or now. But there's that typical steely determination as well. Whatever it is, it's difficult, I can see in his whole posture. At the same time, though, it's something he both wants and needs to do. Something Squall NEEDS to do that involves something other than saving the world? I smile at this thought.
He takes a deep breath.
"The first thing is that..." His voice breaks suddenly, and this catches my attention instantly. If this was important enough to drive Squall, of all people, to the point of tears, it had to be important. Everyone seems to lean in closer. "I'm not going back to Garden."
"What?!" The chorus of surprised voices would be amusing and cliché in any other situation. But that one word question is really the only appropriate reaction that our minds can click with.
"I'm not going back to Garden. I just...can't do it. What Laguna said about Garden being a machine put things into perspective for me. We're mercenaries. We kill for money. But that isn't why I made this decision. Really, it's more because of the second thing I had to say."
Again, his eyes choked back his tears, and I could see reaching into his pocket for what I assumed to be a handkerchief. I came over to him, quickly grabbing a napkin from the table to give to him, but he merely shook it away. He got out of his seat, going down onto one knee and pulling the object out his pocket finally.
It was a little black velvet box. And, before my mind even had a chance to register, he opened it, revealing a sparkling diamond ring.
"Rinoa. Will you marry me?"
"Yes. Oh, God, yes."
Perhaps it wasn't the biggest lie in the world, maybe it won't ever be one of those lies you feel the need to expose, more than likely I will forget about it in an hour or two. But the fact of the matter is that she asked me what I was thinking, and I lied to her. Maybe overblowing this situation already redeems me, showing my reluctance to lie about even such a trifling thing, but it still doesn't make me feel any better. It wasn't even a complete lie. She asked me what I was thinking and I said it was what Laguna said. And I had. I had thought about that previously. But my train of thought on that subject had passed; coming to the same conclusion I had a few days prior. He was right.
When she asked me what I was thinking about, I was thinking about her. I was thinking about what I was going to ask her. I was thinking about when I should do it, and where and how. Maybe I had subconsciously overdramatized the entire situation, but I'm determined not to think myself into inaction as I've done so many times in the past. This is too important, too right, too perfect to mess it up with such a careless abandon into the bad habits she's tried to wean me from.
"Hey, what was that thing you were going to ask me about before?"
For a moment, I wonder if sorceress powers come complete with mind-reading abilities, but when I see genuine and innocent curiosity across her face, I discard it as paranoia. Still feeling a bit like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, I avert my gaze.
"Nothing."
"Oh, it's something alright, you're blushing!"
"No I'm not." Oh, that was brilliant.
"Oh, so your cheeks just get red periodically?"
"Yes."
"Oh, shut up and tell me!"
"I can't."
"Why not?" Her voice isn't whining, as it sometimes has a tendency to be when she questions me intensely on these subjects, but instead was genuinely concerned. My thoughts flashback briefly to the intensity with which she kissed me on the Raganarok, when she thought I was slipping again into my own little world. So I sigh, and try to make her understand, not just my words, but also my entire body.
"Just trust me, okay? I'll tell you before the week is up, I promise."
I could see a little reluctance in her, her mouth half-open in protest. My mind screamed that this wasn't the when or where or how, and prayed that Rinoa could hear those silent pleas. She took a deep breath, and I half- winced, expecting a plea of her own. Not very romantic or understanding, I know, but it wasn't too long ago when she was berating me for acting callous towards my friends.
"Okay."
I relax, and I think it must have been pretty visible, because she smiles to herself as she does so, going to take a bite of her broccoli. I take in every detail of just this simple motion, the odd (at least to me) way in which she holds her fork, the graceful curve of her arms, expression on her face as she enjoys her food. I want to take any excuse possible to touch her right now.
"Do you want to dance?"
And she almost chokes on her food, her eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. She swallows her food near instantly. I laugh inwardly at how eager she is.
"Yes! Let's go!"
I'd like to say that my second trip to the dance-floor ever was with a little more dignity than my first but, actually, it fairly well mirrored it. Rinoa grabbing my hand and literally dragging me into the middle of it. That was the only reminder, however, as the steps of the dance Rinoa had taught me came rushing back into the forefront of my brain. I'm sure true dancers will tell you that you have to feel the music intimately to properly dance to it, that merely memorizing the steps shows and exposes you as an amateur. But I know that, in that moment, I don't think I heard the music at all. All I heard was each of Rinoa's breath, perfectly in tune with my heartbeat.
There was no one else there. Or, at least, it didn't seem like it. We moved through the other dancers and each other like liquid, the music the only thing that kept our form intact. I felt positive that I would be ridiculed when the dance finished, but that negative thought was nestled away in the deep recesses of my head. There was only us. There was no one else there.
Finally we stepped together, my hand reaching instinctively for her waist, my hand grasping hers. And, instead of stopping our dance a reasonably platonic distance apart, we let ourselves melt into each other, continuing the dance as one being, one entity. I know, my thoughts are getting sappy and cliché, but words can only convey so much of the emotion you're trying to intend before their meanings get lost. Maybe it was some of the reason I didn't talk, because I could never properly externalize with words what my head was saying.
The music faded away into silence, but couldn't bear to wrench myself away from her, even to move. Her head on my chest, right against my heart, my fingers entwined with hers on one hand, the other wrapped around her waist. It was a simple pleasure, and one that I was reluctant to give up. But we broke as reluctantly as new lovers do, and made our ways back to our seats, and instead of the expected ribbing, I received merely smiles of understanding.
"Sheesh, Squall, you and Rinny are good at that! You gotta teach Irvy sometime, he was stepping on my feet and everything!" Selphie's playful voice shot out, as she again tried in vain to knock the cowboy hat off of Irvine's head. Every time she does that, she makes the oddest little noise, which only prompts a cocky smile from Irvine. It's a bizarre exchange that I don't really understand, but is funny nonetheless.
"Yeah, man. The girl who asked me to dance left me in the middle of the dance floor! I just stood there looking like a moron!" Irvine and I both laughed.
"Rinny, if Squall's gonna teach the two guys, you gotta teach us two, too! That way every time there's a Seed graduation party we can impress everybody with how good we do!" And that got the girls to chorus in as well.
"Rinoa and Squall can teach a course at Garden for cadets about to go on their SeeD exam. Waltzes and Tangos 101." Quistis chimed in. And, while I continue laughing, that triggers something in the back of my mind.
I'm leaving Garden.
I'm LEAVING Garden.
I'm leaving GARDEN.
I'M leaving Garden.
Irvine and Zell crack a couple good jokes consecutively, and I continue laughing, but it's a dull, hollow sound now. I realize that a week from now I will wake up, go to breakfast and not have these faces staring back at me. Will not have their jokes or smiles. Will not have their vices or virtues. Will not have them berating me when I do something wrong, or smiling at me in understanding when they think I've done right.
I quickly shake away that mode of thinking. I won't ever see them again after this week; I promise myself that I will visit them often. I promise myself that they won't lose touch. And, for maybe the first time, I've started making promises I can keep.
"Squall!" Zell's voice shakes me out of my reverie.
"What?"
"Rinoa asked you a question."
My head turns to her.
"I asked if you thought of seriously doing something like that. Teaching a dance class at Garden when we got back. Because Quistis said that Cid would probably enjoy the idea, and that he could pair it as part of the criteria for espionage courses."
I sigh. I didn't want to do this early in the week. I really didn't. But the issue had been forced. I thank Hyne that I had been fingering the box in my pocket every day for the past month, waiting for this moment.
"Guys, I have two things to say."
I take a deep breath, and hope I can do this.
------------------------
"Guys, I have two things to say."'
There's an uncomfortable glint in Squall's idea. Like he doesn't want to do this here or now. But there's that typical steely determination as well. Whatever it is, it's difficult, I can see in his whole posture. At the same time, though, it's something he both wants and needs to do. Something Squall NEEDS to do that involves something other than saving the world? I smile at this thought.
He takes a deep breath.
"The first thing is that..." His voice breaks suddenly, and this catches my attention instantly. If this was important enough to drive Squall, of all people, to the point of tears, it had to be important. Everyone seems to lean in closer. "I'm not going back to Garden."
"What?!" The chorus of surprised voices would be amusing and cliché in any other situation. But that one word question is really the only appropriate reaction that our minds can click with.
"I'm not going back to Garden. I just...can't do it. What Laguna said about Garden being a machine put things into perspective for me. We're mercenaries. We kill for money. But that isn't why I made this decision. Really, it's more because of the second thing I had to say."
Again, his eyes choked back his tears, and I could see reaching into his pocket for what I assumed to be a handkerchief. I came over to him, quickly grabbing a napkin from the table to give to him, but he merely shook it away. He got out of his seat, going down onto one knee and pulling the object out his pocket finally.
It was a little black velvet box. And, before my mind even had a chance to register, he opened it, revealing a sparkling diamond ring.
"Rinoa. Will you marry me?"
"Yes. Oh, God, yes."