Chapter Four: A Lost Man's Wanderings

Squall treasured that kiss, brief as it was, and allowed the beautiful feeling that had come with it wash over him, only emotions never seem as powerful when relived and the feeling was soon gone leaving him with a strange emptiness. Squall felt a lump well up in his throat and, making hasty goodbyes, hurried away from the building and the many memories that lived on there.

It was only when he got outside that he realised he had no idea where to go. On instinct he wandered towards Deling City Park. It was still early but already the first lines of darkness crept across the sky and the street lamps neon glow illuminated the twilight.

Squall pushed open the heavy Iron Gate and entered the park, walking with no clear idea of where he was going, the emptiness gnawing away at his heart with even more persistence than usual. Though the pain he felt was an internal one, he found that his constant awareness of it drained his strength and he searched for somewhere to rest. Eventually he settled for a small secluded hill within the park, not too far walking distance from an exit but not too close to be easily spotted by any passers by or early evening joggers.

He tugged off his uniform SeeD jacket and lay it down on the dewy grass to sit on. Staring up at dusk sky, he couldn't help but think how beautiful it was and how much she would have loved to have seen it. He could just imagine her now, sitting beside him, the wind gently tousling her hair, the soft smile on her lips and the far away look her eyes always adopted when staring up at the sky…

Squall stopped. Thoughts like that would only break his heart.

Instead, he thought of his friends. They'd done so much for him and only now could he really begin to appreciate that. After her death, they'd all come regularly, checking up on him, inviting him out or just dropping by for a quick chat. He'd rejected them coldly, seeing their sympathy as pity and wanting none of it. He hadn't been able to understand that all they'd wanted was to help him and in a way themselves for Rinoa's death had hurt them all and if her boyfriend could accept her passing it would be easier for them to. But he hadn't and they'd had to learn on there own how to cope. They really had been, Squall considered, just about the best friends he could have asked for and still were.

A pang of guilt struck his heart as he thought of Selphie and what he'd said to her earlier. He hadn't meant what he'd said, not really. It was merely a sign of his grief that he had lashed out someone close to him, a desperate attempt to feel something again even if it be guilt and regret. But that still didn't give him the right to treat her that way.

Sighing, he resolved to apologise to her first thing in the morning as he really didn't feel up to it tonight. He'd do so to her face, not take the coward's way out with a note or message.

This resolution suddenly made Squall feel a great deal better, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and though, of course, he still did not feel what may be described as happy, it was the best he had felt in a very long time.

As he marvelled at this new revelation, he became aware of a shadow looming over him. "Hey," said a familiar voice.

Irvine Kinneas had grown up a lot in the past two years. Having passed the final SeeD exam six months ago, he was now dressed in the traditional navy uniform, his cowboy hat nowhere in sight. Irvine had also cut his long locks down to a much shorter style for the "convenience." Yet still his eyes possessed their familiar sparkle and smiled that same slanted smile that stole so many young women's hearts.

Squall simply nodded in acknowledgement. Secretly, he hoped the gunman would soon leave him to his own thoughts but Irvine just stared up at the early evening sky, lost in his own thoughts.

"So," he said after a while. "A little birdie tells me that you yelled at Selphie earlier."

Squall felt that same pang of guilt twang his heart strings. Irvine had been Selphie's boyfriend for almost two years now, and things were getting pretty serious. Squall was still amazed it had lasted so long – not out of disrespect to Irvine, but he wasn't exactly the most commitment-minded guy out there. But that'd all stopped as soon as he'd got together with Selphie. Irvine was renowned for being extremely protective of the bubbly young girl who wore her heart so openly on her sleeve and everyone knew what happened to them if they hurt her.

Squall stood up and faced Irvine calmly. "Look, if you want to punch me, just do it. I'm sorry for what I did, I know it wasn't right and if I could take it back I would but I can't so let's please just get this over with!" He closed his eyes tight (after all, Irvine had been spending a lot of time with Zell down in the training centre) but the blow never came.

"I'm not going to hit you."

Squall opened his eyes to see Irvine stretching out on his own jacket, eyes fixed once more on the setting sun.

Squall frowned but sat back down beside him, instinctively reaching for his cigarettes then, realising they were still in his jacket, searched the materials lining for the inside pocket and fished them out. He offered one to Irvine.

Irvine surveyed the pack with distaste. "Don't you know those things kill you?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Nope," replied Squall sarcastically, lighting up. "No-one's ever told me that before." Squall took a deep drag before exhaling a long plume of grey smoke. "So, go on then, tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Why you're not going to hit me. I sure as hell deserve it."

"Well, I'm not disagreeing with that," admitted Irvine, leaning back on his hands. "But that doesn't mean that what you did is completely unacceptable. You've been through a lot recently and I guess it was a little tactless of Selphie, pulling a stunt like that." Irvine faced him and in the semi-light he saw the gunman smirk. "Besides, at least you're talking to us now."

Squall nodded. "I guess you're right."

They sat for a long time in contented silence, watching the sun slowly sink beneath the horizon until they could only make out shadowy images of one another by the burning embers of Squall's cigarette.

Finally, Irvine broke the silence. "You know, you never told us."

"Told you what?"

It was hard to tell in the conditions but to Squall it seemed as though Irvine was uncomfortable with what he was saying. "What happened that day, in Timber. With you and," there was a short pause and then the last word came in a whisper, "Rinoa."

Squall was silent for a long time. Then he sighed painfully, the sigh of one who had held too many emotions too long inside. Maybe he should tell Irvine? He'd waited long enough and maybe then he would feel some sense of relief or at least have someone to talk to about his grief. "Okay," he said at last, dropping his cigarette and stubbing it out with his toe. And then he began the story.