Author: Kisutis
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No Longer Misunderstood - Chapter Four
His emotionless stare, a silvery gray in the soft, gently cascading moonlight, rested upon the figure turning away from him. The wind had calmed, its whistling silenced. He was in another place now, with only one other person, it seemed -- not even the usually noisy seagulls made their presence known.
He couldn't help but wonder about how quiet Quistis was being, but maybe it was just as well. He couldn't get caught up in this . . . Whatever it was that messed with his mind, telling him that all previous decisions should have been made differently. Often, these strange thoughts made reference to the past . . .
'. . . All you do is lose things; you never gain . . .'
That, he knew, was true. What had he gained that would never disappear? Nothing. Already, he felt as if he was beginning to lose everyone else, or make yet another wrong choice. There were so many things he looked back on and regretted, that nothing fortunate shone through that heavy, black cloud full of despair.
'. . . Everything will be gone tomorrow . . . No one is here for good . . .'
Living in the past again -- why couldn't he just dismiss it and move on with his life like everyone else? Like a normal person? Experiences and thoughts refused to allow it, and it made it impossible to relax and sleep. It was beginning to drive him crazy, although he would never admit he was losing control over his own mind. No one seemed to realize his sorrow, and that simply made him feel secure to at least have his tough exterior remaining; that antisocial barrier. For as long as he could remember, which didn't include a gigantic vault of memories because of the Guardian Forces, it had been this way . . . So he could continue on this way. He was determined to believe what his mind had always told him:
. . . I don't need anyone . . .
Without a word, he turned around and started toward the exit, his boots creating a dull thud on the hard, cold surface beneath him. There was nothing he could say to her problems, now that he realized how many he had of his own -- and it would stay that way, because it seemed he always had something to deal with. Various tasks, whether they were quite simple or complicating and difficult, had become quite a burden, along with his title as Commander, which he had never asked for, nor desired.
The one thing that had always annoyed him most was people thinking they knew what was best for him. Why couldn't they concentrate on their own lives? For all he knew, they were sitting in their rooms at night, brainstorming ways to control his life -- although he couldn't really call it his life any longer. He felt manipulated, and lacking any sort of handle on what he could usually grasp.
". . . Squall, wait . . ."
He halted in mid-step, lowering his raised boot to the ground. Pivoting on his heel to face her, his strikingly gray-blue eyes briefly locked with her crystal blues. A barely audible sigh escaped his lips as he placed a hand on his hip, lowering his gaze to the ground as if it was something of interest.
Even now, as she faced him, she could feel her mouth quiver, her hand slightly shake as she placed it atop her soft, coral skirt. What could she say to him now? She knew that if she didn't stop now, she may not be able to keep everything that had been bottled up for so long inside . . . There was no telling what the outcome would be . . . It could hurt them both beyond repair, but she had wanted another chance for long. Somehow, she knew she wouldn't take it -- not now. She couldn't just steal him away when he'd already been stolen before.
She exhaled slowly, eyes resting upon him, gazing at him through the thin lenses of silver ovals that set delicately on the bridge of her nose. She typically had something ready to say to him, just off the top of her head. Somehow, she didn't know how to talk to him now. All of her senses had been blurred in the last few moments, and it seemed near impossible to recover. Why was it that he looked even more appealing to her than ever now? Maybe it was because she hadn't had time to really look at him lately, when they were around the others. There had never been time for that -- there was always something begging for attention at the most inconvenient times. Other times, she probably would have giggled at whatever came out of his mouth . . . Was she annoying him now, by not speaking? Did he want her gone, to leave him alone forever?
Nothing was funny anymore . . . Everything seemed terribly serious, like betting on your own life or cheating death itself. In a way, she was sacrificing everything for this -- how could she go on if she knew she had ruined their relationship?
"I . . . It's been a while, hasn't it? Since we've talked . . . ," she finally began, mentally cringing at the desperate words that had tumbled from her mouth. She hoped her own disappointment didn't show upon her features.
Although he didn't show it, his mind was running in full speed. She had changed somehow. Maybe it was the time, or the experiences they had encountered. She wasn't always picking at him anymore, or trying to finish his sentences . . . Or questioning him about his thoughts and asking about his being 'in another world.'
" . . . I didn't want to bother you," he replied in monotone, knowing that his statement was only partly true. She had looked very confused . . . Maybe even frightened, but there was no telling of the reason.
"You know . . . You've changed . . . ," she mused, thoughtfully placing a finger to her lips. "You usually wouldn't worry about something like that . . ."
He shrugged lightly, making it look like he barely contemplated her comment. Really, though, his mind devoured it, attempting to decipher the true meaning of every word and what was hidden behind it. She still watched him so closely, which was obvious by what she had last said. She read him like a book, and she always had -- she was the only person who could ever truly understand him. She always knew, no matter how unrevealing his facial expressions were, when he was uneasy or concerned about a certain matter. Even Headmaster Cid got a laugh out of it when her predictions of his reactions were right on the mark.
A swift breeze was then felt by the both of them, and wispy clouds suddenly covered the previously clear, star-studded sky. The air seemed even more chilly than before, and Quistis shivered noticeably at the abrupt change in temperature. The clouds appeared a dark gray, hovering above the Garden and slowly passing through.
"Looks like rain . . . ," Quistis thought aloud quietly, eyes gazing to the darkening sky. Just as she said so, watching his eyes raise skyward, perfect droplets of cold water began falling from the rumbling clouds.
As the droplets changed to what felt like sharp needles, the cold water numbing any visible skin, Quistis dashed for the overhang just above the door. She cowered underneath it, not wanting to get even more drenched than she already was. Squall seemed to simply ignore the downpour, even though his unruly hair was already sopping wet, as he slowly made his way toward her. He stopped just beside her, piercing blue eyes studying the small splashes the raindrops created as they hit the hard surface of the floor.
. . . He sure does make an incredible sight . . . ,Quistis thought, taking the opportunity to gaze at him when he wasn't paying any attention to her. His hair appeared darker than usual, being wet, and hung limply around his face. Tiny droplets of water clung to his eyelashes, somehow strengthening the gray in his eyes. Rain trailed down his neck in clear paths, taking unpredictable turns and traveling in zigzag lines until they collided with his jacket. The white shirt he wore might as well not have been there, considering that the rain had caused it to fit tightly to his well-defined chest -- and then he turned to look at her, the movement sending droplets sliding from his hair.
She shivered again, wiping away the raindrops that rolled across her soft skin. Whether it was the look he gave her or the chill she had received from the rain, she didn't know -- maybe it was a little of both. Too caught up in her sudden nervousness from the intense look in his eyes, she hadn't noticed him removing his jacket. She could only watch as he stepped forth, stopping just in front of where she stood.
He gripped the jacket in his hands, eyes lowering to it as he slid it around her shoulders. Taking a step back, he raised his face, hoping she couldn't hear the loud pounding of his heart. It sounded like a freight train to him, and it seemed everyone within ten miles would be able to hear it.
She was so startled by his sudden, unexpected movements, that all she could do was gaze into those amazing eyes. It was as if he had just placed her under a trance, rendering her unable to think or act on her own. His touch . . . The way he had so carefully placed the jacket around her; the way his hands had lightly brushed over her arms, caused an unfamiliar feeling to arise within her.
She felt helpless, so much so that she could barely hold herself up. Where was the part of her that was prepared for anything and everything? Where was the part of her that could remain calm and composed, no matter what the situation? Everything about him now seemed so warm, so inviting. The urge was there, telling her to reach out and experience what it really felt like to have her arms around him -- something she knew she should have discovered a long time ago. She had imagined it so many times, wondering how it could ever happen . . .
. . . And before she knew what she was doing, she was absentmindedly leaning forward, into him. Slowly, shakily, her arms encircled his torso, graceful hands lightly resting on his back. She could feel how wet he was from the rain, and that he seemed startled from her actions -- but he didn't make an attempt to pull away.
It all hit him at once -- the feel of having her soaked, cold body so close, the smell of her hair, her fingertips on his back. Hesitantly, he rose his arms, placing them around her.
'. . . What about Rinoa . . . ? . . . ,' his mind reminded him.
Abruptly, he let go of her, yanking away from her embrace. It couldn't happen -- couldn't be this way. It was too confusing . . . What would happen? What would he tell Rinoa?
Without another glance, he pulled open the door, letting it slam shut behind him as he walked through. His life was already messed up enough, stressful enough, and now he was going to fall for his former instructor and try to think of some excuse to give to Rinoa?
. . . I'm not going to fuck up my life any worse . . .
Storming down the hallway, he left a trail of raindrops . . . Behind him, someone else left a trail of tears.
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Well, how was that? Please review, so I'll have more inspiration. I haven't had many reviews since I posted the third chapter, so I took a lot longer to get this one done. By the way, this chapter and some of the last were partially based on some online role-playing I did with one of my friends -- he role-played Squall, and I was Quistis. Thanks a tonberry for reading, everyone, and please review! And yes, I did say 'tonberry.'