Signs of Change
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B-Garden Ballroom,
Balamb
He was staring at the skylight, watching the stars dance their eternal dance.
Squall Leonhart wasn't in a mood for a dance, though. He wasn't in the mood for any sort of celebration.
Truth to be told, he was sick of celebrations. He had came back from Time Compression to a party. He had had to go to Esthar to attend another party. He had to attend various functions, at the invitation of various leaders, and at all of those functions he had to not frown at everyone and had to try to not to grimace when someone congratulated him for Saving the World.
Saving the world? That sounded so . . . so epic, so staggeringly colossal. It also sounded ridiculous. No, he was just doing what he had to, he was trying to protect his friends. Trying to protect Rinoa. Trying to protect . . . this world they lived in. Anyone else would have done the same, right?
And the music started to play again, and Squall almost rolled his eyes. And what did he get from all this? Attending parties and ceremonies in his perfectly-pressed uniform -- now trimmed with even more gold, though thankfully no one had forced him to pin on his various medals; they weighed too much, anyway. And trying not to trip over his feet every time he had to dance with someone-or-other's daughter or sister, all the while silently pleading to an amused Rinoa -- who was always politely chatting with the dignitaries -- to come and rescue him.
Rinoa, of course, did nothing of the sort.
At the thought of his sorceress, he looked away from the skylight, wondering where she was. Rinoa adored parties . . . she was usually the one to drag him -- often literally -- to attend them.
Well, at least this ceremony was not for him, per se. It was an inauguration ceremony for the new graduates, and he was relieved to see Irvine's name leading those of the candidates who had passed the field exam. How Irvine had managed to fail the written exam on his first try was beyond Squall, though he wasn't really surprised. He had yet to talk to Zell or Xu about the mission, and there was the headmaster to report to as well, and he had some paperwork to finish up, and SeeDs to delegate. He vaguely wondered if Selphie had already got back from her assignment (she wouldn't be happy with him for letting someone else organise the graduation ball, but this was a formal event and they didn't really need bright balloons and steamers, did they?), and he probably needed to think who he could send in as her replacement.
Still preoccupied, he turned to look at the entrance to see Rinoa stepping into the ballroom, talking animatedly to Edea.
Sometimes he wondered how different their lives would have been if Rinoa hadn't taken that chance and dragged him onto the dance floor.
Rinoa gave him a delighted wave and headed towards him, her stiletto heels clicking on the polished marble floor. He gave her a small nod, watching as she gracefully wove through the crowd, her burgundy dress swishing as she walked.
"Dance with me?" she said, almost cheekily, and this time, he gave a little frown of protest. Rinoa laughed. "Ah, at least you have an expression for an answer this time."
"I don't want to dance," he told her, folding his arms.
"Why?"
". . ."
"Squall, if you don't say anything, no one's going to be able to guess what you're thinking."
He held back a sigh and uncrossed his arms. "I don't feel like dancing."
Rinoa didn't seem to take offence to that. "Okay. I'll go dance with Irvine, then."
What? Can he even dance?
"Or Nida! Nida's a good dancer!"
Nida? Haven't noticed him around. Is he here?
"D'you think Zell can dance? It won't be fair not to ask him."
Am I supposed to be jealous? he wondered. I don't think I am.
"And maybe with Headmaster Cid. Maybe he can show us some moves!"
That did it. He was not going to watch the headmaster dance, however nice it was to see Rinoa enjoying herself. He took her hand and headed towards the dance floor, ignoring the glances his fellow SeeDs were throwing his way. Commander Squall Leonhart, dancing? Let them think the world was ending then; he didn't particularly care. Instead, he gave Rinoa a slight smile, and she looked up at him, those dark-brown eyes alight with happiness . . . and maybe . . . love?
He almost stumbled, but he caught his balance and managed to stay on his feet. Rinoa ruefully shook her head, and he gave an apologetic shrug. He was never awkward when dancing with her -- well, at any rate, he was less awkward when dancing with her than with anyone else. Except for that very first time, that is. And that was due to surprise at the unexpected invitation than actual . . . inability to dance. He'd never had a beautiful girl ask him to dance before.
Scratch that. He had never had anyone ask him to dance before.
He felt an odd sense of being content -- odd, because he had to adjust to actually feeling things than just methodologically going through the motions, and harder still to convince himself he was actually feeling all this -- as Rinoa rested her head on his chest. He found himself feeling surprisingly glad that she had came over and asked him to dance that first time.
The music was starting to slow down, and Squall dimly recognised it as another version of Julia Heartilly's Eyes On Me. Rinoa was still leaning against him, her eyes closed. He wondered what she was thinking, what she thought every time she heard the song. What she felt. He wondered if she remembered her mother -- had the GFs taken away her memories too? He didn't remember his, though Selphie swore that she could almost remember hers. Why did the GFs chose those memories to absorb? Why not something else?
Why was he even thinking about this?
"Squall?"
He was startled out of his brooding at Rinoa's voice. "Yes?"
"Are you okay?"
He shrugged. "I was just . . . thinking."
A curve played on those cherry lips. "About what?"
"You." Well, that was true. At least, it was half-true.
She laughed and managed to sock his arm lightly, even as they were dancing. "You liar."
"I don't lie," he protested.
"Maybe not," she conceded, "but you don't tell the whole truth either. Right?"
He didn't answer, but he held her close. Rinoa didn't seem to mind, but Squall was pretty sure she would try to pry it out of him later. She could be as bad as Quistis, Rinoa could be, when she was trying to make him open up. Her silky hair smelt of jasmine and some wild flowers he couldn't find names for, and he heard her say softly, "I was thinking about us."
She tilted her face to look at him. They were at the middle of the dance floor, a calm spot in the whirlwind of the other dancers. She looked upwards at the skylight, at the night sky; a landscape of sparkling diamonds strewn upon layers of velvet. "I was thinking about shooting stars."
They had stopped dancing, oblivious to everyone around them. Squall was looking up at the sky himself. "They say . . . they say that a shooting star . . . it's a sign of change."
She leaned into him, still smiling. "Change is good. Well," she amended, "it could be good."
Squall shook his head and looked at Rinoa's tranquil face. "I'm . . . afraid . . . of change. Things seem fine, now."
"You know," she whispered, "for such a stolid figure, you can be such a silly goose at times."
Squall didn't bother to answer her. He leant in to kiss her, his mind totally overlooking the fact that almost the whole Garden was around them. He was forgetting where they were. He felt that they were the only ones on the dance floor, in the ballroom, in the whole world. But Rinoa's eyes strayed to the skylight again, and his own eyes involuntarily flickered the same way.
A shooting star was streaking by; a dash of light in the sky and then gone in a blink of an eye.
