I dooooo not own ff8.
"So, this is where you end up when you realize no one loves you, that no one will ever love you. Where you go when the rest of the world is out for your neck, where the one you love would be better off without your sorry ass following them around, tying their life down, breaking them into pieces," Seifer droned to the somber figure who was staring up, perplexed by the calm upon this face. This face which wasn't supposed to be here, which shouldn't be so damn calm.
Squall lifted his head up, the deep superficial imprint of his coarse sweater on the side of his face, reddened slightly more for the warmth of the fire and glow of the coals filling the room with a slightly tinged light. He continued to stare at the face of his "enemy". Finally, in the fashion of a man believing that what he's seeing is nothing more then a dream left by the nights consumption of alcoholic cider, "Why are you here?" He seemed none the less calm in his execution, simply wanting the query plaguing him to be cleared up.
"Same reason as you. I abandoned her," Seifer looked down at his hand, steadying them by leaning the palms against each other. They were fine now…together. He laughed at how strange and horrible and metaphoric his damned hands were. Looking up again he saw Squall was thinking, unaware of the meaning of Seifer's words from under the groggy haze of the cider…
Squall suddenly seemed more alert, and asked the rather conscious question of who 'her' was. Seifer grumbled at the implication that he could be talking of anyone but Quistis, but he seemed more serene then he had ever been in his life, plagued with guilt and broken down.
"Quistis, I'm talking about Quistis," he looked at Squall. Even if he hadn't been drunk Squall wouldn't have known a thing, no one knew a thing of her side of the story after the first betrayl.
The burden which had been weighing him down suddenly felt ready to be lifted, even if it was on to the shoulders of his enemy, the one he had been taught to despise through competition and warfare, and love. An enemy through love. He wondered a moment, questioning his timing, and then he told Squall what happened to Quistis.
They had spoken the night before, two fallen soldiers reminiscing about conquests gone terribly wrong. It is always terrible though, isn't it? When there's love involved.
Seifer left with the sun in the morning. He had seen the world's hero. Heard his confused words. Watched the lack of emotion on his face and wondered how he could be so much like this heartless boy. He was heartless.
When he got to his next stop, somewhere in the country, a small cottage like inn, he sat at a table and picked up a pen.
Love is always good. Love is always pure. Love is always the best for both parties. A perpetually giving bond between two competent human beings.
No. Not everyone deserves to be loved. I hold over me a sword, I carry behind me my sins, and I can never be rid of them. What do I have to give but pain and torture? A statement rather then a question.
You are so pure, so beautiful. Scarred delicately by the hands of the public. There were so many times when I wanted to hold you tightly and whisper the world into submission. My arms have killed thousands, how can they be expected to fulfil their duty as saviors. My mind has condemned millions to death, how can it be capable of mastering anything beautiful in this world. So please see, I'm not worth a moment. I'm not worth a day of worrying, or a day of thought. I am not worth anything other then a breath, or recognition of my name.'
Quistis read, sobbing, the letter which had came surprisingly, oozing karma the day before. The end of the letter was a surprise, Seifer said he felt guilty, and that if she needed to see just what a horrible decision hers was to contact him, she could meet him at the fountain, twelve midnight, for the last time. She worried to what extent he meant this, if he would actually arrive, or show his inability to care with an absence. But she hurried anyway.
She dressed in a white slip dress and ran out the door at eleven.
The figure stood, cloaked in darkness and memories, looming in a alley in the fountain square of Trabia. Faint hope remained in his mind, and his thoughts wondered aimlessly as he gazed at the lighted, flowing water. He pulled his gloved off, unsure of the feeling produced by them being bare.
At fifteen to midnight a floating white vision slowly moved beside the fountain from the opposite side of the square. She whispered "Seifer" a few times, in a panicked manner, and then sat idly by the fountain.
He hadn't been sure this was a good idea, he was about to find out. He moved slowly from his covered alley into the forgiving soft light of the fountain. Quistis stared. She could barely make out his eyes, his lips, his shoulders. She barely knew it was him. Running slightly, she made her way to the figure, still blurred by the night and awe.
"Quistis, I'm so sorry," he looked at her gently, and she stood before him, eyes trying to breath in what little she could make of his face. Out of thin air she made a grab for his hand, only to have it taken away.
She turned and spoke softly, "follow me."
They made their way slowly, and carefully, Seifer a few steps behind, and she didn't look back at him until they had made it to the back door of her apartments. The street light shone brightly upon them and for the first time in months she could see his face before her.
He was a wreck, running and guilt had sunken his eyes, cheekbones prominent, thinner, the night air seemed to make him shiver. She saw another scar. She saw his eyes, cold. She could swear he didn't care, those eyes could replace a thousand lovely letters, replace them with a broken heart.
They continued up to her apartment. Without a word spoken she started to make tea. Silence blanketed every move, accentuating the few sounds made. He was standing inside the closed door.
Unsure where to go,he watched the Quistis maniacally, almost without thinking, fill two cups full of tea. Then he watched her lose all concentration on the teapot and walk up to him.
Face to face their eyes lingered, boring straight into one another, looking for a reason to fault them and move on. Impulsively she wrapped her arms around him. Her head burrowed into his jacket, which smelt of cigarettes, sweat and musk, like she remembered. He stood, trying to evoke as little emotion in her as possible, and being helpless to do so. He smelt her hair without her noticing, diving deeply into this moment of guilt with the scent of lilacs in his mind.
"Seifer," she spoke muffled, "Seifer, why won't you love me?" she cried at the last inquiry.
The warmth of her tears, her human nature, was soaking though his jacket. He stood mute, and finally wrapped his arms softly around her. She sighed, as though he had done something amazing, and continued to cry.
"Stop crying Quisty," he tried to sooth her, "It'll be all right."
"It hasn't ever been alright," self pity washed over her mind, almost rightfully, "why hasn't it ever been alright." A statement and unanswerable paradox finished her moment.
"I can't stay long."
Quistis looked up, eyes red with anguish and fear, her lip almost quivered., "No, no, no, no, no…" She continued, stuck.
"I can't love you , " he lied, "it would be the love of demon."
She continued to repeat "no", and finally fell silent and held him tighter. "Don't you realize that you're hurting me more now…"
"Can you even love me," he stared down at her, his arms relaxed and fell to his sides, as did hers a moment later.
"Of course I love you. Why would I look for you this long, why would I be like this," she smoothly used her hand to display the room, which was quite chaotic.
Suddenly he moved his head forward and their lips met. Passionately he kissed her, almost violently jamming his tongue into her mouth. She responded almost instantly, running on hand through his slightly matted hair.
The light gently beamed in though the window, and the open screen allowed the hot, wet, industrial smell of the city to waft in. The sun rose almost triumphantly, and when Quistis turned over she smelt a musk like, human smell. She remembered the night before, and found herself staring at the closed eyes of Seifer Almsay.
She kissed his forehead, unsure of what had happened last night. It had seemed fierce, and violent, pent up and locked away inside with good reason. She had never made love like that. Never before in her life had she had so much passion towards one person and had it returned.
"Do you believe that the sun will rise," she softly spoke, referring to his letter, as he stirred slowly.
"I love you Quistis."