Chapter 8: After Party
Quistis | July 9
The Garden Festival had turned out to be a smashing success.
As a show of appreciation Selphie was naturally planning to treat her small army of minions to an epic after party, though it was taking place a week later due to her busy schedule.
On a warm summer night, Quistis and Rinoa found themselves taking a stroll on Deling City's main drag in search of the nightclub Selphie had booked for their shindig. They navigated cautiously along the sidewalk to avoid being jostled, groped, and pickpocketed. The big sister in Quistis took over as she moved Rinoa out of harm's way every minute or so.
Quistis had always been fascinated by the milieu of Deling City. Cigarette smoke on midnight rooftops. Creeping alleyways under neon lights. Secret backrooms where conspiracy met with magic and mystery met with sleaze. All of these scenes morphed into one cohesive and enticing blur, acting as the heartbeat of the city.
"I envy Selphie's stamina," sighed Quistis.
Rinoa seemed abstracted in thought. "It's interesting you should say that, Quisty. Do you know what happened to Selphie the other day?"
"I haven't seen her since the Festival," said Quistis. "Is everything okay with her?"
"It was barely dinnertime and she fell asleep at the library. Avery tried to wake her up, but she was out cold! We had to hunt down Irvine so he could carry Selphie to her room."
Sometimes it was easy to forget how human they all were. Polished and professional killing machines, yes—but ones that could not escape the mortal realities of fatigue and burnout. They were but fuses burning ever closer to a combustion point. Whether that burning was a slow unspooling or the gods hitting the fast-forward button was not something that Quistis liked to think about too much. Such was the life of a SeeD. The life she had chosen.
Hearing about Selphie pricked her heart. She was suddenly glad that she came out tonight, if only to honor her friend's tireless efforts in making their lives a little more enjoyable.
"I hope she's feeling better by now," said Quistis empathetically.
"I'm sure she's in tip-top shape." Rinoa gave her a conspiratorial wink. "I, um, might've helped her along with a small energy boost…"
"Ah," said Quistis in understanding.
Quistis had seen Rinoa perform her white magic on a limited number of occasions. The young girl's body had undergone enormous physical strain that seemed to contradict the simplicity of her spells, to the extent that she had been checking herself into the infirmary on a regular basis. It wasn't until later that Quistis found out why: the magic of a sorceress was so powerful that it was more taxing to keep it within controllable bounds than it was to give it free rein. The matter was a continual source of stress to Squall, though his protestations had waned over time as he witnessed Rinoa's steadfast determination in gaining mastery over her identity.
Quistis reflected on that fateful day of the Deling City parade when she had jumped to conclusions about Rinoa's character. So many things had changed since then. Their trials had given birth to a solid brand of maturity, and the bonds forged through mutual suffering had ensured that they would remain connected to each other for the rest of their lives. How lovely it was that she could now call Rinoa her friend and confidante.
They entered a livelier section of the city where there were more street buskers than freewheeling drunkards.
"So what exactly is the plan for tonight?" asked Quistis. She gingerly rubbed the corner of her eye in an attempt to get her contact lens to settle in.
Rinoa smiled at her. "Dinner and dancing! But it's also a themed night at the club, or so I heard."
Quistis chuckled. "I suppose that's somehow related to the dress code." Selphie had instructed everyone to wear "understated luxury in lots of white tones—and comfortable shoes, of course!"
"You nailed the dress code," complimented Rinoa. "You're giving off serious 'hot date' vibes!"
"Thanks, Rinoa." Quistis grinned to herself with satisfaction.
"Oh, this looks like the place!" Rinoa halted abruptly and motioned toward the blacked-out windows of a sleek two-story building.
A ripped bouncer gave the two of them a scrutinizing once-over. Quistis immediately noticed the watercolor design on his right arm. There was a picturesque quality to it that she had never ascribed to tattoos before. She didn't know that they could look so cultured. For a reckless moment, she was tempted to ask him where he got inked.
"You got a reservation?" the man asked gruffly.
"We're here for Selphie Tilmitt."
He checked his guest list and nodded in approval. "Alright, ladies." He gestured to the front entrance. "Watch your step."
Quistis and Rinoa crossed the threshold and entered a dynamic force that was barely contained within the four walls. The DJ was spinning a symphony of electronic anthems that were bristling with the spirit of liberation and anarchy, and it felt like the very earth was shaking and rattling. Masses of people were illuminated in a kaleidoscope of fluorescent shades and bouncing to the beat like they were spring-loaded. Though it wasn't Quistis' usual scene, she had to admit that the vivacity was infectious and the sensory overload was gratifying.
They climbed upstairs and easily spotted their reserved table when Irvine waved at them to come over. Quistis scanned the rest of the attendees and failed to find Seifer in the sea of faces.
The more she attempted to casually run into him, the harder he was to find. She hadn't even seen Seifer at the Garden Festival, which was the one place she was sure she would find him. Not knowing what to do with all of her newfound emotions for him was reminding her just how much of a rookie she was in the romance department, and not getting to see him for such a long period of time had gradually driven her into an unapologetic state of languish.
"Make yourselves colorful!" shouted Selphie in greeting. She pointed to the containers of UV body paint lined up against the back wall.
Quistis was terribly disheartened by Seifer's absence but tried her best not to let it get to her. She followed Rinoa to the paint station where the two took turns drawing floral patterns on each others' cheeks. Rinoa then left to use the ladies' room and Quistis was about to head back to the group when a watery splash of paint was flung at her sideways.
She turned to see Seifer grinning mischievously at her with a brush clutched in his hand, hearkening back to the orphanage days when this urchin had exulted in terrorizing her and the others at every turn.
Two things happened at once: her heart leapt out of its sinkhole at the sight of him, and she spattered some of the liquid back at Seifer with terrific aim. Apparently he hadn't expected such quick retaliation, as his mouth dropped open a little in surprise. How handsome he looked today—the only guy who could rock a plain white tee as if it were regalia.
"Tit for tat," she said teasingly.
He smiled and walked toward her with measured steps. "Turn around."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why?"
"Just do it."
Quistis obliged, half-expecting him to drench her in paint.
Instead, Seifer began to style her hair.
She relished the feel of his fingers sweeping back loose strands and combing through them to even out the ridges. He carefully arranged her locks upward and concluded with a satisfying snap of the barrette (so it had been in his possession this whole time!). She could feel that the pin was slightly crooked and that several hairs were spilling out from the sides but she took pleasure in these tiny imperfections.
"How did you know…?" she began.
Seifer gently spun her around. "I've seen you do your hair before."
Maybe it was prideful to think that Quistis might possibly be at the center of his mind, but there was growing evidence that she was not an afterthought to him. Just how much more of this evidence she was trying to collect, she didn't have a clue. Was there a point at which she would simply need to make a move? She would have to figure out the answer as soon as possible, preferably before this night was over.
Plates of gloriously hot and cheesy pizzas were waiting for them at the table. Several more of their friends had joined the party, some of whom were getting started on foaming mugs of toffee-colored beer. A peppy waitress with a glowing choker briskly swept by their table and deposited the first round of hard liquor.
"HEY FRIENDS!" yelled Selphie over the increasing din.
The DJ was unleashing a new ripple of syncopations with grimy sonic twists and juddering bass drums. Quistis could practically feel her synapses crackling.
"Thank you ALL for your contributions to the Garden Festival," continued Selphie. "We could NOT have pulled off this event without your dedication!"
Irvine handed his girl a shot glass, which she took and raised in the air with unfettered triumph. Her fingers were graced with LED rings that blinked out delicate trails of rainbow lights.
"Not only did we raise a RECORD-BREAKING amount of money but we also received a HUMONGOUS donation which will be used for an INSPIRATIONAL and LIFE-CHANGING project!"
She flashed a smile of acknowledgement at Seifer.
"Thank you again and don't forget how much I LOVE YOU ALL!" she concluded in an impassioned scream. Had they been on the dance floor, Quistis was certain that Selphie would have chosen this moment to trust-fall into the crowd and be carried away by her devoted supporters.
The speech was met with a boisterous explosion of whooping, clapping, and cheering.
"HELL YEAH!" exclaimed Zell, raising his glass to Selphie's. "That's freakin' AWESOME, Selph!" He had traced over his facial tattoo with UV paint and it blazed like some otherworldly ensign beneath the moody lighting.
"Congratulations, Selphie!"
"I'm sooo happy for you!"
"Our hard work really paid off, huh?"
"Settin' the bar high there, girl!"
The group began to guzzle down alcohol like they were on the verge of the Apocalypse. Quistis abstained from alcoholic indulgences and noticed that Seifer did as well, which seemed very unlike him. Any lack of booze was more than made up for by the hearty, gooey, and satiating pizza that was being devoured by everyone at an alarming rate. Avery attempted to regulate Zell's eating speed so that he wouldn't choke on any food. Irvine's nature as a ladies' man emerged in full swing after just a few shots. Selphie monopolized his attention with equal aggression, hanging onto his waist as a warning against coquettish violators.
As the night drew on, Quistis was convinced that she was wearing a signpost for her attraction to Seifer. They were sitting side by side—or rather, squished together due to the limited real estate at the table, and she sensed every little thing like a jolt of electricity. The lightest brush of his arm against hers. His rumbling laughter whenever somebody cracked a joke. The occasional turn of his head to make sure that she was okay and that she was still enjoying herself.
In need of a breather, she excused herself to use the ladies' room.
She was washing her hands in the onyx sink basin when a couple of girls in strappy sandals flounced through the door, their raucous laughter echoing loudly in the enclosed space.
"Excuse me."
"Yes?" said Quistis politely.
One of the girls threw her an ingratiating smile and flipped paint-speckled hair over a bare shoulder. "We couldn't help but notice your friend sitting next to you back there. You know, the one with golden hair?"
"He sure is easy on the eyes," giggled her friend.
Quistis felt a sense of possessiveness detonate inside of her. "He's with me," she stated in a cool voice.
"Oh," replied the first girl, taken aback by her terse response. "I see. No harm in asking though, right?"
The other girl pouted. "You're one lucky girl!"
"No offense taken—and thank you, I am lucky." Quistis attempted a cordial smile, though it probably manifested as more of a scowl.
She was in a half-daze by the time she returned to the table. She hadn't thought twice about her response to these strangers. It had simply been a reflex because in her mind, she and Seifer were already a couple.
Seifer stopped mid-conversation and cocked his head, observing her with a subtle grin. He looked like he wanted to lift her up and away from whatever was holding her down.
"What is it?" asked Quistis, temporarily forgetting the need to raise her voice over the thumping music.
His grin widened, and he tapped his ear in an inviting gesture.
She leaned into his ear and repeated her question.
He answered into hers: "You're looking kinda feisty right now." She caught a whiff of his woodsy, spicy scent. "Did something go down in the ladies' room or what?"
Their mouth-to-ear conversation continued. "Oh, you know," said Quistis. "Just defending you from the masses of females who want to get their paws all over you."
"Jealousy sure looks cute on you," said Seifer. His breath was tickling like crazy.
She could really get used to this kind of flirty exchange. "You know that I'm always looking out for you, Seifer," she replied lightly.
A smirk traveled across his features. "And how exactly did you defend me, Quistis?"
By now she could sense several sets of eyes watching their tête-à-tête. It gave her an overwhelming rush of excitement. It was the final push that she needed.
"I told them that you're mine," she breathed.
Quistis had effectively hooked him. He leaned in closer, and this time his lips deliberately brushed the skin of her earlobe. "Let's go downstairs."
Seifer's voice was dressed in sensual layers, and he somehow managed to make this string of ordinary words sound casually illicit. It was like he had suggested that they shoot up some mobsters and make out by a fireplace afterward to celebrate.
He gave her no opportunity to refuse as he boldly took her hand and led her down the staircase onto the pulsating dance floor. The last dregs of self-consciousness faded out in this dark zone where everyone had the privilege of all that was wild and untamed. The lights, the music, and the people summoned Quistis with a glittering intimacy that urged her to ditch rules in favor of freedom. The glass terrarium she had been comfortably existing in was shattered, and she was the one who had done the shattering.
As Quistis plunged into this nocturnal alchemy it was impossible to tear herself away from it, and away from him.
This was their dreamworld, rising out of the boiling surf of synth riffs.
They stayed together in a continuum of motion, hyper-aware of one another in a steady coming-together and pulling-apart as the music surged and ebbed around them and through them.
She put her all into it and Seifer gave it back to her in an energy transfer that shivered and swelled in a palette of lush textures.
They cascaded and curved with sweet abandon and no fixed narrative, simply enjoying the way they were reaching new levels of ubiquity in each others' hearts.
His body was a serenade that pressed into her with a cadence that was at once playful and punishing.
He was the sensation of cashmere on her bare skin, of fizzy sherbet being poured onto her over and over again.
They were in a state of being that hovered in the interstices between the spiritual and the carnal, between their greatness and their undoing.
Quistis knew more than ever that this dance with him was changing her on the inside: Seifer was unfastening every knot of her heart, guiding her to embrace emotion and not hide it away.
Telling her that it was okay to feel wanted by him, to feel helpless around him.
Right here and right now, she was able to forgive herself for her faults.
And oh, she did not have to bottle up the thrill anymore!
When the pair had danced themselves to exhaustion, they returned to the group to rehydrate. The table was mostly deserted except for a handful of friends who were miraculously still drinking, though at a slowed pace. Quistis inhaled an entire glass of water. She wondered how much time had passed. She was sure she had burned at least a thousand calories dancing, and a part of her still felt like she was levitating somewhere on the dance floor.
Quistis looked at him looking at her, and something inside of her struggled to the surface. She didn't know what the feeling was at first, but as she took in Seifer's smoldering expression she made sense of what it was. Before she had walked through these doors tonight—in a nightclub, of all places—she had always accepted the fact that her life as a mercenary could be taken from her at any moment. But now that Seifer was so close, so real, she suddenly found herself unable to bear the thought of death. She wanted to cry out and extinguish that burning fuse so that it would never reach its combustion point. She wanted to do it for the both of them if it took every last ounce of strength from her.
You are worth living for.
Seifer's lips upturned in a smile, putting her mind at ease. The sense of desperate melancholy abated and her focus returned, sharper than ever. This night was smudging the lines between them. He was pulling her in with devilish finesse, and she made up her mind to do the same.
Still riding on the high from their stratospheric encounter and feeling increasingly confident in her skin, Quistis looked soulfully into his eyes to pose a question to him.
"Secret Area?"