A short piece, Seifer/Squall, unrequited, written for my FF8 themes community. If you're on LJ, feel free to check it out and claim a couple, friendship or character to do themed fanworks on. Just search for fated(underscore)children. (FFnet uploading kills the actual underscore.)
Themes were "ink" and "unsent letters".
An unsent letter. It's been there... months now? Years? Seifer doesn't know. He doesn't care, either. He's afraid of what that letter could do, what it could change, so it's better that it remains unsent. He wrote it when he was still caught up in all his ideals and dreams. Quite pathetic, really, that he'd once hoped that Leonhart could be more than just a rival.
He remembers the struggle to get the words out. The pen, squeezed in his hand, as he tried to write without blotching, smudging or running out of ink. It was a fountain pen - he wasn't used to those, always preferring a simple biro or, better, a keyboard and a computer. It had been full of problems. Running out of ink. Stopping for no apparent reason. Smudging as he tried to write. Getting him covered in it.
It had been worth it, for Squall.
The words had almost been harder than the ink, refusing to come no matter how hard he pressed himself. Dear Squall. Dear Leonhart. Just plain Squall. Even, once, in a fit of romanticism, he'd written, 'my love'. Only to discard it.
Lies. Squall wasn't his to love. Never had been. Rinoa... that bitch. He has to admit, she's probably better for the guy than him, though. He'd just constantly have antagonised Squall. But he wishes, desperately, that it could be different. He wishes, in some part of him, that Squall will find the letter. And with another part of him, a grown up part, the part that knows dreams just cause trouble... that part of him desperately wants for that letter to disappear. To never even have been written.
Even when he returns to Garden, Seifer won't retrieve the letter. It has to remain, still stuck, waiting, trapped in its own little bubble, at the bottom of Squall's locker. Ready to cause havoc if anyone ever reads it. Seifer likes it that way. It makes him feel like he's playing with fire, still living on the edge of danger.
Dear Squall,
You know I don't hate you. I think I love you. So I'm writing you this letter. I'm sorry for every fight I've caused between us, and I wish it could be different. I don't know why. Damn it, I don't know what to say. I hate this pen. I hate myself for writing this letter.
I'm going to spray this with my aftershave. Just to play the romantic fool for a while. Maybe when you read this, you'll smell me on the paper. I bet you didn't know that secretly, I'm a bit of romantic. And I have read those stupid romance novels in the library - trust me, it's not worth the time. They're utter crap.
I've loved you for a while, you know. I wish you'd just notice me. Then I wouldn't have to fight you. But if you don't notice me, I'll keep on fighting you. I know that one day, that is going to get one or both of us hurt. But I can't stop it now. It's the only way to be close to you.
I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. Somehow, I hope you never read this.
I love you.
Seifer Almasy
