It could only be them. On a stormy night, everyone else stayed safe within the walls of Balamb Garden, locked in their rooms, locked away. But they never would. Balamb Garden confined them, and perhaps the only times they did feel free were the times when they fought, fierce rivalry stirring the blood like nothing else.
Sparks fly, metal ringing over the top of the softer sounds of rain and the rumblings of the thunder, a sated, lazy storm-sound, even as the rain is pelting them, stinging their faces. Clashing, halting, held body to body for a long moment, eyes shouting of defiance, of that heated rivalry. More than hatred, and perhaps more than a little lust, and the primal need to be the best - it was what made Squall human, and it was what Seifer lived for after all that he'd done.
The moments of liberation. Blood pounding. Blades clash, and scrape, strident sounds cutting through the clamour of the storm. Clear cut. Something they could always return to.
Squall's heart pounded. His blood rushed through his veins, pushed to his limit to return every slash, every blow. Pushing himself that bit further to defeat the man standing against him. And yet, reluctant to ever end this perfect duel. Reluctant to ever match the challenge in the other's eyes, in case they lose this, this thing that defines them both so easily.
Seifer was intent, his vision narrowed in to see only the rain-wet, leather-clad man before him. His eyes, accustomed to the dark, darting away from the sparks that flew as their gunblades clashed. Narrowed eyes as he followed Squall's lead, parried his strikes, and then took control of the situation again, forcing Squall back. Never ready to surrender, but no longer needing to win.
Only they would fight in the midst of the storm. Only they would find comfort in the stark reality of the gunblades clashing. Only they.
