By: pariah and Sefie
Chapter One
Squall Leonheart leaned against the battered remains of what might've been a Trabia Garden notice board, calmly regarding a familiar canary-clad figure as it raced closer and closer to the Garden's entrance. When he thought the girl'd be close enough to hear him, he shouted her name, waving one gloved hand.
"Selphie!"
She skidded to a halt in front of him, her arms outstretched. He recoiled, not wanting to be hugged, but then realized she was aiming for the moomba which was affectionately rubbing his leg. After hugging the beast, she stood up and looked at him.
"Heeeeey!"
"Hey, Selphie," Squall said, vaguely nudging the moomba away with his boot. "Er, listen—I thought you'd be coming here again. I'm glad you did."
Selphie beamed at him. "You're cheerful!"
"I have something to discuss with you," Squall continued, as if he hadn't heard her. He seemed oddly nervous, carefully studying the occasional passer-by. "You're the most—er—the most eager member of Garden, I'd say, so . . . that's why I chose to ask you to help me with a very important assignment."
"Assignment?" She looked down at the ground and ran her boot along the dirt. "You're choosing me for the assignment? Even after that disaster in Galbadia?"
He nodded, nudging moomba once more.
"I don't blame any of you for what happened in Galbadia, Selphie. I know you all tried your best." This area of Trabia was nearly deserted now; he had nowhere to look but Selphie or the moomba or nowhere, and as Selphie was, predictably, grinning widely at him, he shook his head and peered down at the animal. "Anyway, we'll probably recruit many more people later on, but I'd like to ask you about it first." He stood up straight and scanned the immediate area for any sign of life. Upon finding none, he said lowly, "Selphie, I want to overthrow the faculty at Balamb Garden. I know I'm commander, and that I should have more power than them, but . . . I don't."
Her grin faltered slightly at the thought of overthrowing Balamb Garden and then came back in full force. Squall was confiding in her? In her?
"Wow, Squall, that's so anarchist."
He continued looking at the moomba, almost wishing he hadn't asked her. She was energetic, sure, and maybe even helpful, but he had a feeling that the entire garden would be overflowing with talk of anarchy and their very own antihero by tomorrow. If that happened, Quistis would pull him aside for a "talk"—that pretentious bitch with her "rules are rules" mindset—if she didn't report him for plotting against the garden first, and then Irvine would ask him if he wanted to borrow a copy of Girl Next Door, and then Zell would come punching in, demanding to be a part of the whole plan, and then . . .
"Look, Selphie, don't say anything, okay?"
"Oh, sure, Squall." Selphie saluted him. "You know you can trust me!" She nodded firmly for good measure. Squall could tell she was on the brink of exploding with excitement, but was rather impressed that she was managing to hold it in for once.
"Thanks," he said. He put his hand to his temple thoughtfully. "And don't . . . don't just think I'm doing this because I want control or Garden or whatever. I'm doing it because the faculty are out of control. Cid's away from Garden so often that I wonder why he doesn't just revoke his Headmaster status entirely, and NORG is dead, and I guess I shouldn't have expected the faculty to respect someone they can remember giving detention to—but we have to do something about it."
Selphie looked strangely focused. It was a look she got whenever she began to get serious about a mission. Squall remembered it from as far back as the day she came to him as a messenger.
"Okay, Squall! We've gotta do this. We can't just sit around while they boss everybody around!"
Squall finally looked up from the moomba and at Selphie, finding himself smiling. He decided that it had been right to tell her, she was really a good comra—
"We have to tell Irvy though, he'll totally be into this! Plus he's the best sniper . . . !"
I'll think about it.
Balamb was floating placidly across the vast beaches of its home isle. The view outside of Squall's window might have been pretty, but he didn't bother looking. For the entire duration of the trip from Trabia in the north, Squall hadn't said a single word or done much at all. He tried to stay away from people; he gestured vaguely; he nodded when asked if he had a headache, if he'd like to lie down. Selphie hadn't bothered him at all since he'd said, "I'll think about it," back in Trabia. After that, his face had gone blank, and Selphie probably figured he had begun to brew over some brilliant idea already forming in his mind.
The truth was he didn't have a brilliant idea. All he knew was exactly what he had told her three days ago: the garden was chaotic, he felt compelled to save it, and that they should overthrow the faculty. He groaned, sat up in his bed, and stared at his gunblade case. He was still staring at the case when a pair of hands covered his eyes. For a second he thought it was Selphie, but then he heard Rinoa's voice from behind: "Hey, meanie."
He pried her hands off of his face.
"Hi."
"Hi? Is that all I get, you big meanie?" As Squall turned to look at her, Rinoa twirled her hair around her finger, looking at him expectantly. "No blatant scowl? Not even an itty-bitty glare?"
Squall laughed, hoping it didn't sound as forced to Rinoa as it did to him.
"Whatever," he said, and fixed her with a very overdone glower.
"Now that's the Squall I know!" She smiled and put her hands in his hair, playfully messing it up. "Anyway, I come here with a proposition."
His glower faded into an unreadable facial expression and she plopped down on his bed. He didn't like the sound of a "proposition"; Rinoa always used words like that when she wanted him to actually do something social.
"A proposition, eh?"
"Uh-huh," she said, nodding cheerfully. There was something devious about her smile.
"Well . . . ?"
"Well," she said, all the while giving him meaningful looks that were really quite irritating, "I don't know if you know this, but you and I have been officially together for a whole six months."
Squall was stolid.
"Ah."
"God, you didn't remember, did you?" She got off the bed and began to pace in front of him, holding her hands behind her back. "I never thought I would say this, but I'm jealous of Selphie Tilmitt."
Squall stared at Rinoa, wondering if she'd taken his sudden closeness to the other girl as something more.
"Huh?"
"She and Irvine, well, their six month was yesterday, and he woke her up by covering her in roses. Yes, roses. Over two hundred in total, the Balamb florist had them delivered—it cost thousands of Gil, the story is all over the Garden." Her voice was rising and she was beginning to sound quite angry.
Squall was about to speak, but she cut him off: "And for our anniversary, what do I get? I get a grumpy SeeD who spends all of his time in his room staring at his gunblade."
Rinoa was staring down at him icily, raising her eyebrows at him. Squall rolled his eyes. He hadn't missed the crude implications of her words.
"Whatever," he said, looking away as if Rinoa bored him. "Why would you expect me to do that? Roses? And so many of them, I'm surprised Selphie isn't staggering to the infirmary, bleeding to death . . ."
Squall chanced a look up at Rinoa. She was opening and closing her mouth, her clenched fists writhing at her sides with ineffable fury. They stared at each other until Rinoa turned around violently, unable to express herself.
"I can't believe . . . totally missed what I . . . insensitive . . . being sardonic at a time like this!"
"The door is that way," he said, pointing a finger towards the hall. He really just wanted to go back to thinking about what mattered, not relationships.
This time it was her turn to glower; she huffed towards the door and stopped halfway out.
"Squall Leonheart, you are the most callous person I have ever met."
"Oh, and before you go: If you see Selphie, tell her I need to speak with her? I mean, if she's not down in Dr. Kadowaki's office getting stitches from the flowers—"
The door slammed shut.
"Selphie Tilmitt, you're the most callused person I've ever met."
Zell Dincht was on the verge of tears.
"I'm sorry, Zell!" Selphie said through a mouthful of hot dog. She shrugged at him. "Why don't you have one of the hamburgers instead? They're not that bad, you know."
"One of the hamburgers?" Zell moaned. "Selphie, please."
"Sorry." Selphie took another bite of her hot dog.
Zell dropped his head to the table despairingly.
"I think you meant 'callous,' Zell," Quistis said matter-of-factly, putting down her spoon and pushing away her soup bowl. "And maybe you should come to the cafeteria earlier if you'd like a hot dog for lunch."
"Whatever! You guys have no idea how savage those junior classmen are!"
"Well, if they're anything like roses . . ." Selphie said, putting her hot dog down on her tray and extending her arms to show off dozens of neon pink bandaids. She sent a cold glare across the table to Irvine Kinneas.
Irvine didn't lift his eyes to look at her; he had been staring at the table the entire time. He hadn't said a word since the morning.
Zell, who was still eyeing Selphie's hot dog, kicked him underneath the table.
"Dude, I think she's mad at you!"
Irvine tipped his hat down with a sigh.
"Okay, Zell," he muttered. "Go ahead and tell the whole world, then."
"Huh?"
"Forget it." He shook his head, then tipped his hat back up and gazed over at Selphie. "Listen, Sefie. I just thought it would be romantic. I didn't mean for it to turn out so badly." His mouth worked guiltily as he looked at her arm.
"Irvy, roses have thorns. Couldn't you have made the florist remove them or something?"
"Flowers aren't my specialty," Irvine said miserably.
Selphie's glare lessened as she took sip of her soda, but returned as she saw two female students coming up from behind Irvine.
"Irvine, darling! I heard about the roses!"
"You are so romantic, you should teach our boyfriends."
He turned to face them. Selphie looked away in disgust and Zell took this time to steal her second hot dog.
Selphie had looked back to her plate, but she didn't seem to notice that Zell had taken her last hot dog and shoved the entire thing into his mouth, even though Quistis was berating him loudly. She was listening closely to Irvine.
"Er—there's not much I could teach, ladies," he was saying nervously.
"Whatever you say, handsome," one of the girls giggled, turning away. "You're not known as Irvine the Divine for nothing!"
"They just don't make them like that at Balamb," the other girl sighed to her friend as they went to go find a table.
Before Irvine could say anything to Selphie, who was looking pouty, someone called, "Hi, guys!"
Rinoa made her way through the crowd and put her lunch tray down between Zell and Selphie's. Zell quickly dove for her tray only to back off, gagging in disgust.
"Salad?" He choked. "My hand touched a tray that carried salad?"
Rinoa ignored Zell while Quistis started to lecture him for the third time in the past hour; she was looking at Selphie's arms. Selphie didn't offer an explanation, she just pointed to Irvine who was staring at the table in silence again.
"The roses did that?" Rinoa asked, surprised.
"They did," Selphie replied.
"I see." Rinoa studied her salad thoughtfully for a moment, and then blinked up at Selphie. "Squall wants to see you, by the way."
"Really! Was it important?"
"He didn't say," Rinoa said coolly.
"I guess I'd better go and see him then." Selphie, admittedly, wasn't too concerned about seeing Squall; rather, she was eager to have an excuse to get up and leave the gloomy cafeteria table.
Irvine slumped further in his seat, watching as she walked off and Zell dug into the remnants of her lunch.
How was he going to get back on her good side?