Perspective Change: The unofficial chapter six to The Healing Process
Disclaimer: We all know who the respective owners of FF8 are Square, but this idea was suggested by "sarah85". x_x Hope I did a decent job.
There's been an ever present need within me to fix that which has been broken. Where the urge came from, I'll never know. Whether it was an impulse triggered from the no-nothing childhood I had or some dream buried under all those which had failed before it, I do not know, but the feeling still nags at me whenever I find some poor misshapen cabinet which needs painting or some other random object lying around my dorm which needs to be attended to. I did indeed have the perfect heart for a knight. So, this certainly explains what drew me to Leonhart when the world had collapsed around him, right? No. On the contrary, I was drawn to my rival because since the day Squall came to Garden and proved himself to have an equal combat prowess as me, my heart having set itself a new goal: Together, he and I would accomplish greatness. We would go to the top and we'd do it side by side. These intentions had all been fine and well, until he decided he'd rather be a stubborn little bastard and hide within the confines of an indifferent shell. Being the rather hot headed teenager I was, I reacted in. . .well, not the best of ways.
So we came to "hate" each other. Hate is too strong of a word and I suppose I don't use this whole heartedly, but there was a lingering bitterness between us which didn't seem to vanish until after the Second Sorceress War. Our petty arguments and spontaneous spars were spawned from the stupidest of things: a playful shove misinterpreted, a glare or scornful word. All of the following led to us clashing blade to blade, heightening our levels of combat skill while our rage drove us to become better than the other. After awhile, I no longer had the desire to bring Squall with me to the top, but rather wanted to reach it before him so I could shove it into his face simply to let him know that I was better.
A trip to Balamb changed my new view, though. It had been late October, the weather was the same as it is now; frigid and brisk with soft winds of the seasons change, a warning from autumn letting the world know that winter was soon at hand. Squall was up to his old tricks, ignoring everyone and being that antisocial prick he was back then. The moment was just right and this is why I've never forgotten it. A gust had just past, leaving the students to be assaulted by the dry leaves of gold and red it had picked up, the foliage fluttering around them like a swirl of Christmas trimming. My vision had been directed in the direction of Leonhart, his sudden and awkward cry drawing my attention to him. It was the most beautiful image I had ever seen. You know the color of freshly brewed coffee being poured into a porcelain mug, steam emitting from its depths while that delicious scent wafts to your nostrils? That's what Squall's hair reminded me of as it was pushed away from his marble features, whipped around almost wildly by the wind. And those eyes. . . the sudden look of astonishment and anger mingled within the aqua orbs, emitting an almost ethereal glow as that perfect mouth of his parted in the shape of an "o". Do you know why they call him Squall. . .? I do. A sea of emotions can flood over him so quickly and then calm before they can return in waves once more. It is certainly a sight to see.
The image of him standing there, looking rather frustrated while the wind pushed its icy fingers through his hair and clothing, imprinted itself in my memory and it wasn't until days later did I realize it when I found myself tormenting him once more only to look upon the windows to that complicated soul and find an insult hanging off the tip of my tongue yet never falling from my lips as I simply stared. I would make it to the top for Squall and I would drag him with me, kicking and screaming if that's how it had to be, only to show him that, in the end, I did it for the "us" that could have been yet never was.
Well, I didn't ever make it to the top, never got to bring him with me for the ride since he caught another bus which led our paths astray. Yet. . . despite these set backs, I find myself lying awake with the lion sleeping so peacefully within my arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And perhaps it is. Here, I do not have to be perfect. Here, my flaws are made into virtues. In our eyes, we are the image of a relationship others only wish they could achieve. In all sense of the word, together we are anything and everything we want to and can be.
If I were to have said to someone, "I'm in love with Squall Leonhart" last year before I found him on that cross, it would have been a lie. I knew not the meaning of true love or companionship, these were fairy tales which I had long believed were made to lead the human heart on a quest for that which does not exist. Something happens to you when you suddenly find yourself holding the dying body of the one person who has been the only constant presence in your life. A trigger is set off in your mind while you frantically try to rush him to help, hastily breathing Curagas as if it would keep him alive for just a moment longer in order to save the life which you suddenly find so precious. There is a pulse that makes your heart beat with a new vigor when it finally occurs to you just why you're so desperate to help the man lying in a bloody mess within your arms and you realize that the love you had thought to not exist was real. . . and the world takes a sudden dip when you find out that the body you're clinging to has failed to move while going drastically cold.
Love is suddenly given a name. It's dubbed Squall Leonhart as those lips suck in a ragged gasp of breath, still holding on to the fragment of life that should be far gone by now. Fate was kind enough to give a second chance, which shall not be wasted.
I know I certainly made the best of what was given to me. If I hadn't, Squall might not be lying within this tight embrace we've locked around each other. I won't go all sappy and say that miracles come true, because I believe that destiny can only be steered with one's own hands along with a gentle guide from Lady Luck and Monsieur Fate. I made my own life what it is now and it wouldn't be anything to be proud of if I didn't have Leonhart by my side.
That original dream I had can still be accomplished. We already have each other and the mountain of greatness isn't as high with an extra pair of hands to help climb the way up.
Even the Great Seifer Almasy needs a bit of help now and then.
A/N: Cliché. . .just a bit. Sappy and. . .yeah. -_-; Okay. No more Seifer POVs for me. Still, tell me what you like?