In Secret
by diddly day
Disclaimer: They're not mine.
A/N: Okay, this is pretty fast for me! I usually never update this quickly. I pretty much sat down in the past two days, and drilled out this entire chapter. It's like 2:49am and I'm watching Family Guy on Adult Swim. And now I have a major headache. So excuse the spelling errors, I'm getting better about catching those. Enjoy and let me know what you think!
Chapter Eight:
"So, what happens next?" asked the small child with his dark hair and deep eyes, as he sat next to his father's favorite rocking chair. The man tilted his head to his side, gazed at his son, and looked over his shoulder to see if his mother was listening.
"Oh, you really want to know?" he questioned the small boy. The child nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, the man noticed his daughter leaning on her elbows to hear her father's story better.
"Yes, please Daddy! We want to know what happened to the beautiful, golden princess!" she begged, her eyes sparkling like diamonds. "Did she ever remember her knight?"
At this, their father frowned. The fire cracked as the light bounced off the golden hearth casting a warm glow to the children's faces. Their eyes gleamed with suspense. Pure attention to every word that turned to their ears. He did not know how to answer his little ones. Usually, fairytales had a happy ending. But life was different, and this was no fairytale.
His son peered at him over the rim of his glasses. His expression turning troublesome. "She does remember? Doesn't she Pappa?"
A familiar woeful yearning erupted inside the man heart. A yearning that he used to bask in. He remembered locking himself in his room, only to think of her. The fair, golden princess that was taken away from him. However, now he had children, and could not afford to indulge in such self-pity.
Even so, the ache that still twinged his mind, his body, and his soul never stopped. Not after he had moved on from his beloved. And before he could answer his children, a burning stir swept behind his eyes, and he was forced to look away from them.
"That's enough stories for tonight. I will tell you the rest when you aren't so sleepy." the man hushed.
They began to fuss and pout, begging to know whether or not she rode off into the sunset with her knight that she loved so dearly. But the man simply held up his hand to quiet them. Telling that when all was right, they would know the end of the tale. Of course, his son and daughter groaned with disappointment and scowled at their wicked father. Thinking him sinful to tell such an exciting, romantic story, only to rush them off to bed before the end.
"But Pappa– " they started.
"Now, are you pestering your father again?" came their mother's voice from the kitchen. They all turned to stare at her in wonderment. There she stood in the doorway, her beauty still fitting sharply around her delicate body.
"But Mamma! He just told us a story, and now he won't finish it!" chanted the little girl. The mother stared at her husband and smiled.
"If so, it is because he does not know the ending, and needs more time to think of how it will finish. Now, you two be off to bed. And don't hound your daddy any longer. He is very tired and needs to sleep."
With those last few words, the young ones sagged their heads with disappointment. However, knowing better than to argue with their mother, gave their father a kiss goodnight, and left for bed. When both parents had seen that their children were asleep, the woman turned to her husband and sighed.
"Squall, did you really not tell them the end to the fairytale?" he avoided her dark eyes. "Why tell them stories if you can't think of an ending?"
"The ending wasn't a happy one. I couldn't do that to them. I will think of a better way to finish the tale." With that, he felt her small fingers on his jaw, tilting his face to look at her.
"You're so distant. I wish I could spend more time with you. I wish you would let me in a little." He would never let her in. And he did not tell her that.
"I've done my best." he murmured. Knowing that it wasn't a complete lie. He could see her eyes flicker with mischief.
"Can you show me your best tonight?" she whispered as she bent towards him and gave him a tempting kiss. He did not respond to it.
"Not tonight Rinoa. I'm very tired, and that's not fair to you." It wouldn't be fair, because tonight, his mind was on someone else. . .
"All right." Rinoa muttered. "I understand, but I want you to let me in. Just a tiny bit. That's all I ask."
He gulped.
"I'll do my best." Squall said, all the while thinking of his princess.
I I I
Squall awoke in his bed with a sudden panic. His heart hammering, almost hurting, inside his chest. Flinging the bed sheets away from his sweaty body, he launched himself to his feet, and began to hastily pull on his clothes. The rain still streaming smoothly outside his window, he opened it, and accepted with delight the cool breeze that struck over his hot skin.
He had to find Quistis.
He had to rid himself from the horrendous misery of his dream. There hadn't been anything outlandishly terrifying about it. It was simple. Married to a good wife. Living in a nice home with well behaved children. But his wife wasn't Quistis. And that meant that his children weren't Quistis's. It had scared him so. And now he fought down the urge to jump out his open window, and dash out into the rain. Running until his legs would fall off. To get away from the living nightmare that was now growing inside the Garden.
Either that, or go find Quistis.
And Squall wasn't the fleeing type. He knew what he had to do. Even if she didn't remember him, as long as she was there with him, it would be okay. Once cool enough, he shut his window and made his way for the door. Gathering his wits with every step.
His feet led him through the dark halls of Balamb Garden. His mind still stuck in his vision that had fell upon him in his sleep. Vision? Squall hoped not. More like illusion. That was simply something he feared. To lose Quistis, and out of desperation, marry Rinoa. Surely it didn't mean anything. Right?
But what if it did?
He had had those kinds of dreams before. Of course, it hadn't been of things to come, but of things that had once passed. Save, was that really any different? What if he woke up one morning, and Quistis still didn't remember him? That wouldn't be a big deal right? But what if one morning turned into five? And five to fifty? What if he awoke, and she was in love with someone else? What if he got up from bed, and she was gone? Or worse. . .
Dead.
What happened if he opened his eyes, and realized that the woman that lay next to him wasn't Quistis. But someone new? Or even, Rinoa?
He shook his head. Squall was worrying way to much. It was just a stupid dream. A terrible nightmare that he had rid himself of, and it wouldn't be back for some time. Just as long as he didn't think of losing Quistis. As long as he stayed close to her and helped her to remember, she would come back to him.
He hoped.
It took a moment for Squall to realize why his feet had stopped moving. Looking up, he noticed that he was, once more, outside of the infirmary. And then it occurred to him that he had no idea what he was going to say to her at one o'clock in the morning. It wasn't like she was going to be glad to see him, kiss him, and share a bed with him. Hell, she was probably asleep, and the last thing she needed was to wake up and see a strange man standing in her room.
Another image of him sitting next to a fire, telling his children a fairytale pushed Squall's legs through the door.
I I I
Quistis was new to the warm fist that wrapped its finger firmly around her heart. It felt so welcoming, she was sure that no other woman on the planet had been treated this deliciously before. His fingers tightened, and she swooned as she could feel her heart pumping speedily in his palm.
Only when she opened her eyes to see who so solidly held her heart, they met only air. She stood outside next to a fire alone. And while she gazed about her surroundings, searching for anyone who might hold the power to pluck at those sensitive strings in her chest, only the wind greeted her. Quistis had never felt so lonely. Then she felt his hand again, and the loneliness vanished.
Still, even as there was no one in sight, she could feel his touch. Delicately stroking the nerve inside her ribcage. And soon, she had to sit down for her knees felt weak, and her head became dizzy.
He loved her.
Whomever it was that was making her feel this way, he loved her more than anything. Quistis couldn't stop the grin that spread quickly over her face. Her body relaxed as she unfolded herself next to the warm fire. Reveling in this extreme pleasure that fought to take over her senses. But when she lay by the fireside, it stopped.
Looking in every direction, she squinted through the darkness, eager to find her lover. Her heart lay dead inside her chest. She needed to feel that slow caress again. Only then, could she become alive. Swinging her head desperately in the darkness, she saw nothing. Her eyes scanning the deep woods and trees in hope that she may see her admirer.
Nothing.
Now, her heart beat dully with grief. Unmistakable woe was the only thing that kept it still pulsing. The isolation surrounded her again. Like a dark cloud, the fire became dimmer. It bound her tongue so she could not cry in terror. The darkness stung her eyes, making the glow of the flame beside her become fainter and fainter. It was not that long after that Quistis was filled with utter despair.
She felt the tears drop quickly from her lashes and onto the ground. In her mind, she cried out to the man who had filled her with such happiness to rescue her. When she thought that, the pain lessened, and she saw something at the base of the rock next to the bonfire.
Struggling to get up, she inched slowly to the object. No. . .objects. The agony disappearing like a phantom. Bending down, she gazed through her tears at the black, leather, gloves that lay neatly on the dirt. Stretching forth her hand, she gently snaked her fingers around the sleek texture of leather and picked up the matching pair.
Not knowing why, she slid one on her hand. For some strange reason, she was not surprised to see that it fit perfectly. The gloves themselves seemed to be specially made for her hands. They danced down her long forearms to her elbows. The scent of the leather fine. However, as impressive as they were, Quistis felt somehow that by putting them on, she were receding rather than progressing. Almost as if she taken up a bad habit again.
Flexing her fingers in the snug material, she gazed at it. The firelight absorbing the intense heat that radiated off the flames. The black fibers parading a blurry reflection. The sense retrogression became stronger as she stared at the wonderful gift that had been given to her. And without much thought, Quistis grabbed the tip of her gloves, and pulled them hastily off.
Once so, she expected the terrible fear of solitude to snatch her. But instead. . .
"There are other ways to keeps your hands warm." the breeze around her swayed the trees as the fire hazed slightly.
It was a warm familiar whisper. Full of love and excitement. At that moment, Quistis knew that the voice belonged to the man who had held and stroked her heart so adoringly only moments before.
I I I
She was obscurely aware that the door to her room had opened. However, her head still foggy with sleep, making it hard for her to react to swift whooshing of the automatic doors. Only when she heard a man's boot fall heavily on her carpet, did her eyes snap open in alert.
"Who's there?" the figure stopped at her voice. Turning her neck towards to the opposite side of the room, she could barely make out a man who was large in stature.
"It's me," the man said. He sounded familiar, and Quistis knew almost at once who it was. "Squall."
No matter what anyone said, Squall was not how people described him. Rinoa had portrayed him as cold and easily irritated. While Zell, who had visited her the morning after Rinoa, had said that he was quiet and sarcastic. When a tall, fair haired man named Seifer spoke to her after dinner, he recounted that her commander was grumpy and, at times, rather blunt and tactless.
Although, each of them were surprised that it was Quistis who was asking all of her peers about the mysterious man named Squall. She, herself, couldn't explain it. There was some slight infatuation there. It was curiosity that drove her to turn all of her conversations on him. They, in return, had all told her that he was not a friendly man who needed friends. And that he was profoundly peeved with Quistis on a daily basis.
They had all told her that. Except two of her supposed friends who had visited her last. A bouncy and happy woman named Selphie, and a slick chap in cowboy attire who went by the name of Irvine. Although it was Selphie who had done most of the talking, Irvine seemed to confirm everything she said.
"Don't be so hard on Squall." Selphie told her with a soft voice.
"Well, he came in here and apologized. I guess I have to forgive him." Quistis responded, looking away in embarrassment.
"Quistis, despite what the others might say, Squall holds you in the highest respect. And remember, they don't always know everything. But me? I'm the Gossip Queen, and I know all."
Quistis almost laughed, but when she looked at Irvine to share her humor, he merely stared down at her and nodded almost reverently.
Squall turning on the lights, caught her out of her thoughts. The sharp glow of the brightness burned her eyes. However, Squall hadn't seemed to notice her discomfort.
"Sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"Don't worry." she answered, shielding her eyes from the white hot light. "What are you doing here so late?"
"I came to check on you. See if you needed anything." Quistis almost told him to turn off the lights, but upon seeing his–what was that– worried expression, she kept silent.
For the first time that night she looked at him properly. He stood next to her bed. A dark shade of stubble on his chin told her that he had not shaved for days. And the red in his eyes confirmed her suspicion that he hadn't been sleeping well either. His hair hung untidily into his eyes, and dark rings sported themselves under his lashes.
"You look exhausted." she observed. She expected him to simply goggle at her, as it was a stupid observation. But instead, a ghost of a smile caught hold of him.
"You can tell, eh?"
No. He did not look annoyed. He did not seem angry or cold. He was sitting himself down gently, and with great care as to not to disturb her, on her bed. It was apparent that he was being considerate. And his voice wasn't harsh or distant. Quite the contrary. It was humorous, with a tad bid of anxiety. While behind his red, blurry, dark eyes, were relief.
He was happy to see her.
Why?
Was it because he was still harboring remorse for his boorish behavior a few night before? Or was there another reason? Were the two, she dare say. . .friends? She closed her eyes, that couldn't be it. Nonetheless, Selphie's simple words still echoed in her mind. The fact that there may be more to Squall than met the eye gave Quistis a small piece of hope that perhaps she might be able to find out who she was. Since she had awoken from her magical sleep, she was afraid that she wouldn't find her memory because of her perplexed relationship with her peers. How was she going to piece together who she was if she wasn't able to know where she stood with each of them?
So many questions, and so far, no answers. No answers that helped her anyway. And from talking to everyone else, she had gotten the distinct impression that Mr. Leonhart did not give a damn about her well-being.
But he was here, wasn't he? Sitting on her bed, wondering if he could somehow make her life a little bit more comfortable.
Quistis closed her eyes, and plunged her face into her hands. This was so confusing. She wished that she could sit down in a quiet room, and read about her life. Read about it without having to ponder and inquire to everyone else. To have her entire life displayed before her so she could study it and learn it. Not having to worry about who was liable, or who she could trust.
Then it happened. Such a frightening thought had never occurred to her. Just who were her friends? Who were her enemies? A sickening realization punched into the pit of her stomach, and she felt deathly vulnerable. How was she going to distinguish the light from the darkness? Who could she count on to aid her back to her true reality? Quistis may not be able to remember, but she wasn't stupid. As a soldier, she was sure to have foes, and any wicked individual would jump at this chance to manipulate her so subtly.
For evil hid behind smiling faces.
As if the fates had answered her, the lights flickered wildy. Squall and Quistis turning their eyes about waiting for it to stop. It didn't. And finally, darkness won as the light vanquished from inside the infirmary. A faint buzzing noise slowed and made a winding sound. The two were left in blackness. The only light shuddering from outside the stormy window.
"Oh no." Squall muttered as she sprang from her bed and raced to the automatic doors. No sound came from them, and Quistis heard him pound softly on them.
"What is it?" she questioned. She was vaguely aware of him rounding next to her bed once more.
"The power went out. This has happened before." he sighed. She could see his silhouette as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "We've had a horrible storm for the past few days. It's been making everyone's lives a living hell." There was something in his voice that she couldn't detect. Whatever it was, it was causing him distress.
He looked up to her. She could feel his eyes on her body. It surprisingly wasn't violating. Quistis found herself quite flattered to be watched so intently under his gaze. She could almost feel him staring into her soul. A cloudy stirring launched its way into her belly. His eyes felt good. They felt. . .intimate.
"I'm sorry." she heard him say. "I'm stuck in here with you until they get the power back on."
This was not happening. She barely knew this man. And he was the biggest question mark out of all the people who she had spoken to. What if he wasn't such an honorary man as all her equals had agreed on? But there was nothing else, beside suspicion, that should make her so discomforted. After, she could not deny that there was nothing unsettling about him staring at her.
"Don't worry," she smiled. "I could use a knight to watch over me." In the blackened room she heard him chuckle.
"Trust me, I got myself locked in a hospital room. What kind of knight does that?" She saw him sway back and forth, not sure of what to do with himself.
"Well,"she started as she waved her hand in front of her. "Might as well make yourself at home."
I I I
The candles that melted with wax shed it's light across Squall skin. Shimmering over his features. He sat on the edge of her bed, watching it. Transfixed by the dancing flame that wavered back and forth on the small dresser. Quistis watched him. They hadn't said much to each other. Oddly though, she knew they didn't have to speak.
Before, he had shuffled around her room, looking for any source of light. Two old-fashioned candles waxed brightly in the darkness. Squall had placed them on each side of her bed. One on the chair to her right, and the other on the dresser to her left. The warm glow comforted her a great deal.
Fighting off the silence, Quistis forced herself to break his gaze on the flickering blaze.
"So, tell me about yourself." she spoke gently. He pulled his eyes from the candle to peer at her.
"You shouldn't be asking about me. You should be asking about you." She breathed, and her entire body leeched into her blankets. Searching for warmth, she hugged the covers.
"I'd like to know about you."she pressed. He looked uncomfortable, and shifted timidly on her bed.
"What do you want to know?" his face slacked with shadowy alarm. What was he afraid of?
"I don't know." Quistis shrugged. "Anything. For starters, how do I know you? When did we first meet?"
At this, Squall's eyes widened as he tried to think. Rolling his shoulders back, he bit his lip and laced his fingers together.
"I don't know when we first met." he replied. "I've known you since I can remember."
"How far back can you remember?"
It took him a little longer to answer that question.
"We used to live at the orphanage with Matron." he retorted. "We all used to play together. Well, except you. Even then, you acted like a mother. I thought Matron was actually going to give power to punish us." He suddenly smiled. A real smile. A fond smile.
"What else?" She wasn't sure what he was going to say, but she knew that it was better to ask him herself, rather than ask anyone else.
"You were made an Instructor in Balamb Garden when you were only fifteen. As a matter of fact, you were my Instructor." at this, he didn't smile as much.
"I was your Instructor?" he nodded. "So, how did you do in my class?"
He closed his eyes and told her the truth. He told her everything he knew. About her relationship with him. (Even though she knew he was holding something back.) Her relationship with everyone who also lived in the Garden. And a few major details about their exciting adventure a year and a half ago.
The story itself was something out of a book. With Sorceresses, knights, and magic. Dreams of past. Seeing the future. Assignations and betrayal. Flying machines. Fights. Self-discovery and dependancy. She leaned forward, riveted with his stimulating story of friendship, bravery, and love.
"So what happened next?" she asked, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Is that when you and Rinoa fell in love?"
Squall did not want to discuss the circumstances between Rinoa and himself, but Quistis was so taken in by the touching romance, that he promised to tell her at another time. . .when he could think of a better answer.
"It's such a shame." she declared. His eyes found hers and his eyebrows raised.
"What is?"
"You two, losing something so strong like that." she shook her head and ignored the blast the thunder that vibrated the walls so deeply.
She heard Squall inhale and his body wilted with weariness. Hunching over, he buried his face in his hands, not bothering to gaze at her any longer. Quistis knew at once that she should not have spoken so liberally about his lost love. For an instant, she was sure he was going to break down and cry. Instead, he dropped his hands from his face and moved his head closer toward her. In that moment, she held her breath. He was full of surprises, and she had no idea what he was going to do next.
Stopping abruptly, she held his face with her eyes correctly for the first time that night. Noticing the pale line that hid under his hair, trailing its way down his sweaty forehead. His eyes like black pools of ink. The flare reflecting made them look like an oil spill on fire. He innocently stared at her. Both of his eyes saying everything his lips weren't.
Maybe it was the candlelight, but Quistis's skin flushed unexpectedly. An overwhelming feeling drained from her face and down to her toes. She could feel the heat from his body flooding over her flesh. The hot sensation arousing a frightening, yet pleasant hatching in her heart. While spreading round her being. The sound of the rain hitting against the Garden sent a shiver down her spine. Her lungs failed with air, and the back of her neck became heavy and strained as she faced Squall's fervent expression.
Her eyes traveled over to his scar. She gaped so hard at it, that her head started to hurt. A quick image filed behind her eyes. She saw a pale hand whisking his bangs away, then lingering their fingers down his thin existence of an old wound.
It was only for an instant, but Quistis was briefly positive that she knew what that fine stip of flesh felt like under her skin. Then like an apparition, it was gone. In the next second she had completely forgotten the sensual taste that had touched her memories, and now fell entirely into his lost eyes.
"You look tired." he heaved. "I suppose I've kept you awake long enough. Get some sleep." he pulled away abruptly and leaned back.
Standing up, he walked around her bed, picked her the candle on the chair, and brought it around to the dresser on the other side of her bed. The left side of her now darker than the right. The extra light provided cast shadows that she had not seen before. Imagining mysterious creatures hiding in the new depth, she allowed herself to turn childishly fearsome. Brushing those stupid thoughts from her mind, she let her blue irises follow Squall as he maneuvered himself once more around her bed and into the chair next to her.
The high emotions that still tarried inside of her drained her of her strength. Allowing her head to fall back onto the soft pillow. Her eyes closing, relieving the stinging air that pounded over her frozen sapphires. Her ears taking in the sound of Squall mild breathing lulling her to sleep. All the while, fully aware that she was under his watch.
I I I
Irvine grumbled to himself as he paced down the Garden hall. It was almost five in morning, and the power had now just finally come back on. The sound of the generator reviving itself had scared the living shit out of the new cadets that slept soundly in their dorms. And now once everything had settled down, they had called him up. Woken him from a dead sleep, to go and take a walk around the Garden, to make sure no troublemakers had caused a ruckus. Hell, he hadn't known that the Garden had lost power again. As did he care.
He was now dragging his feet gruffly through the deserted ballroom when he noticed a faint light on in the back quarters. Rolling his eyes, already knowing that some punks had gotten into the bar behind the counter that the staff lounged in. Great. Now he was going to have to deal with stupid-ass drunk kids.
The humble melody of jazz poured through the crack in the thinly opened door. He heard the relaxing strum of the base blending beautifully with the beat and rhythm to the soothing love song. Wait. That wasn't right. Love song? What kind of hooligan listened to love songs?
As he drew closer to the door, a deep exhale came from behind it. Irvine tapped on the door with his knuckles and it drifted back softly. Peering around the doorframe, he gazed into the small bar. The cozy light hit the liquor bottles that line over the counter, causing a ravishing Aurora to cast upon the walls. The jukebox spun the records in a hypnotizing motion. Then he pitched his sight to the right.
Laying across the red rosewood bar, was Squall. Clear shot-glasses cluttered around him, some sitting up, others on the floor next to his dangling feet. His face down on the slab, arms around his head. His leather jacket and trousers were replaced by a pair of loose jeans, and a dirty, white T-shirt. Irvine was so astonished to see him there that he dropped his radio and it clattered to the ground. Squall didn't flinch.
"Squall?" he tripped his way over the used glasses next to his friend. Squall still did not look up. Irvine placed his left hand on his shoulder and shook him. "Hey," he tried. "wake up."
Upon feeling his touch, Squall inhaled deeply, lifting his head heavily from the rod of wood he was using for a pillow. Irvine stared into his face to see his eyes were unfocused and intensely glazed over. The whiskers on his face were longer than he had ever seen them. He unevenly met Irvine's eyes.
"What? What?" he slurred. When his lips opened, Irvine was hit with the bitter stench of alcohol. "Oh, hey pal." Squall loosely slapped him on the elbow. The man reeked of liquor. Irvine fought to control the muscles in his face from scrunching in disgust
"Squall? What the hell are you doing? You can't be drinking this early, everyone will be up soon." he only had enough time to catch Squall from falling wildly from his seat. Clinging to Irvine, Squall hoisted himself up on his stool.
"It wasn't that early when I started." he corrected. Irvine was dimly aware that the love song had ended, but was playing. . .again.
"Why are you here?" his question didn't go unanswered. For when he was drunk, Squall wasn't as introverted as he usually was.
"I wanted to see Quistis." was all he said. Irvine stared at him blankly.
"Well, she's not here buddy." Squall was pouring himself another drink in a dirty glass. Before Irvine could snatch it away, he threw his head back and downed it in one gulp. Hunching his hansom features, he grimaced at the liquid fire. "Why did you want to see her?" he asked.
"I uh–" he paused. "I had a bad dream." he sounded like an infant.
Irvine was struck with sudden sourness. This midnight drinking rampage was not a result from a night out with the boys. This was Squall, hurting. Running away from his pain. Hiding in the only thing left that could give him any form of comfort. And why?
Because he missed his wife.
He was already fumbling again for another shot-glass, but Irvine was too quick this time, and grabbed his forearm to stop him.
"You had a bad dream and wanted to see Quistis?" Squall nodded, his neck bobbing dramatically up and down, trying to support his head.
"Yeah, but she was asleep. And I accidently woke her up. I'm such an ass!" he threw his own fist up and whammed himself right on the crown of his head. Irvine had to grab his other hand to stop from hurting himself anymore.
"Don't!" he warned. Squall didn't listen.
"She was afraid of me. I–I–I could tell. My own wife, scared of her husband. That's what abusive husbands do, frighten their wives. And that's what I did." He attempted to hurt himself again, only Irvine was there to prevent it.
"And then the power went out and I got locked in!" his words strung together in his delirium.
Irvine was now vainly trying to pull him off of his stool. It wasn't as easy as he had hoped. Squall was heavy. And that damn love song was still playing! It was such an easy, warm environment. Yet, tainted cold by his friends sadness.
"So I lit candles and we talked." his entire body was leaning to his right, ready to fall off and smash to the ground. If that happened, Irvine knew he would shatter like glass.
"You just talked?" he questioned. Locked in a room with your wife on a stormy night, candles the only source of the light in the room, and all you do is talk? Squall, though wasted, knew what Irvine was getting at. And he stared at him incredulously.
"She doesn't remember me." Irvine frowned at this. That was right, Squall couldn't have done what he wanted if she had no memories of him. He turned back to the bar. His hand reaching out for the bottle of whisky that was damn near empty. "It was romantic." he whispered.
His messy hair fell around his hands as he masked over his face. Resting his elbows on the bar, he leaned forward. It was quiet for sometime, and Irvine began to wonder if Squall was starting to sober up. But once again looking around him at the dozens of glasses, he knew that Squall wasn't going to be himself very soon. And was going to wake up tomorrow with the worst hangover imaginable.
"I miss her." his voice wasn't only detached, it was shaking, and muffled by his hands. "It's only been three days, and I miss her like hell." he dropped his hands away from his face. "The power came back on not long after she fell asleep. When it did, I didn't want to leave. So I came to lounge to get away. Just for now."
He staggered, nearly tipping backwards over his seat. Irvine had to grab his back. When Squall looked back at him, his eyes were polished and redder than ever. And Irvine knew it wasn't because of the liquor.
"For a while, we just stared at each other." he babbled. "I wanted to make love to her so bad." Irvine grabbed his shirt trying to get him to move. "I wanted to show her how much she means to me. I virtually lost control watching her silky eyes." Since when did Squall become a poet?
Pulling harder, he lifted Squall up, only to have him stumble, then crash to the ground. He reached down to boost him to his feet. Squall moved easier this time, gripping on to Irvine with every ounce of strength he possessed. He caught another hint of that sour flavor wafting off his friends breath.
"I love her. I can't marry Rinoa. No matter what. If Quistis dies, I'll die."
If it hadn't been so depressing, Irvine would've rolled his eyes. Setting his mouth into a tight frown, he hauled his comrade to his feet and towed him off to his dorm. Not bothering to shut off the lights or jukebox, or to clear away the used whisky glasses. The two of them set off through the dark Garden. Squall all the while telling Irvine exactly what he felt. A very un-Squall-like thing to do, but the guy was plastered and vulnerable. He knew that Squall was releasing some of the tension that plagued his life. He probably would've muttered this to a complete stranger, blowing his cover about his secret marriage. It was just pure dumb luck that he, himself, had stumbled across his pal tonight.
After all, what if what was happening to Squall and Quistis, had happened to he and Selphie? Irvine shuddered. He didn't want to think about that.
It wasn't until they got the Squall's dorm, that he told Irvine something that moved him to his very core.
"If Rinoa leaves Seifer, promise me you'll keep both of them away from Quistis." he drooled on his own pillow and laid his aching head back.
"Why?" was all Irvine was able to voice. He gazed down at his commander, who looked suddenly so small and childlike.
"Because they might take Quistis away from me. They might drive her away. I can't– " he mumbled something into his sheets.
"What? Can't what?" Irvine prompted. He was so shocked by his mate that all he could do was listen to his incoherent rambling.
"I can't lose her." he then turned on his back. His sweaty face cooling under the chilly air. The white sheets and pillowcase absorbing the atmosphere and soothing his sizzling body which had grown hot because of the alcohol he had devoured.
Irvine rose to leave when Squall's slick hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar.
"Promise me." he soughed.
His throat felt scratchy and dry. His face turned beet-red with embarrassment for his friend. Blinking the sweat out of his eyes, he put his hand on Squall's shoulder to assure him..
"I promise." as he said it, Squall relaxed and let sleep overtake him. His hand dropped from Irvine's collar and hung freely over the side of his bed.
Irvine arose, and turned to leave the dorm. Making his way back to the lounge, he couldn't get the broken image of Squall out of his head. He knew once he told Squall about it tomorrow, he would be horrified to know what he had shared. But in an odd sense, he had never seen such an honest side to him.
When Irvine had first been asked to be a witness to their wedding, he had scoffed. It seemed like the two were making the worst mistake. Squall was only getting married to rid himself of his emotions over Rinoa. And Quistis was foolishly allowing herself to indulge in a fantasy that wasn't real. She was letting herself believe that Squall really loved her when his heart was still with Rinoa.
But tonight. . .
It had changed. Squall had talked of agony over the memory loss. He had told him that he all he wanted to do was stay with her. Kiss her sweet lips. Touch her body. And make love to her between the glowing candles. That was not like Squall at all. Even so, Irvine was positive that if he had not been asked to roam about the halls tonight, Squall would've drunk himself to death in a feeble attempt to dull the pain.
Irvine cleaned up. Washed the glasses, and closed up the fetid bar. It had been awful. By the time he had gotten back to the lounge, the love song was still playing. It's once happy and touching beat now haunting and joyless. He had to fight back the terrible sting in his eyes before he could fight up enough nerve to shut it off. Even when he did, the lyrics still played desperately in his mind.
You stare at me,
I gaze at you
Do you know me
as well as I do?
If we danced in different lands
I know you could feel my hands
I need you,
you want me now
To love you more
than I know how
So kiss me please, and do not fail
as I tell you my own fairytale.
Irvine locked the door behind him, wanting to never hear that song again.
To be continued. . .
A/N: Oh wow! I still have readers! I was very surprised to see that any of you were still reading this. These last few chapters haven't been my best. But I'm glad that people are still wanting to find out what happens to this wonderful couple. My favorite part of this chapter was the beginning dream, and the Squall drunk at the bar scene. I didn't much like Quistis's dream, but hey, I had to write something.
Thank you all for reviewing. I wish I could sit down and write you all thank you's. But that would make this story look longer than it already is, and I don't want to do that to you. So if you could all leave your email address, I would happily send you a personal thank you for reading my story. Those reviews are the best part of story process.
Thank you all!
PS: The lyrics to the song are mine. Just so you guys don't call the site manager and have me shut down. I understand that is a new policy.