Story strictly designed to make you feel the overall depression of it. Has no real point, no plot, and no ultimate main idea. Blaaaaah. Consider it one of my more...eh... "artistic" pieces. Yeah. Let's go with that.
There actually are some points I try to make with these, but don't expect me to make it obvious like I usually do. You kind of have to figure it out for yourself. Vague...Bleh.
Pieces of Nothing
Short, separate works that delve into characters' situations on a mostly individual basis. Might see some shonen-ai, and don't expect good themes, plots, or happy endings.
One: Ocean
I should be over it now, I know.
It doesn't matter much how old I grow;
I hate to see October go.
-When October Goes
The sky over the sea was a vague blend of many apple-reds and vivid orange hues bled together, and the placid waters themselves pushed lazily against the worn beach.
Boots sunk into the cool sand with each heavy step. Warm air pushed from land out to sea, rising up in the back of his ivory coat. More than anything, his eyes, once brutal, intense, and ageless, now swam with a green dust, interrupted and perched precariously on the breaking limb of youth.
But youth was over. There had been a struggle to overcome it, but one thing was sure; he no longer had any bit left in him. Maturity couldn't place it quite well. It wasn't youth, but he didn't feel adult. And neither was it anywhere in between. Something else altogether, he thought.
The sea pulled away his thoughts and drew away his heat. He lowered himself down to the sand and folded his legs, leaning back on a strong arm and lighting a cigarette with one hand, watching the smoke rise and fly out to sea with the breeze.
There wasn't much to do. Just sitting by the beach at the very spot where he had once stood with his head held high. Once, a firm, adjusted gaze, towering far above the gods; the imposing sea a small obstacle to his grand path. Now, waters drifted on as probably they always had, laughing at him for everything he was worth. Mocking him for what he thought he was.
How else could he approach this but to sit in the face of rejection and have his smoke blowing in its face?
Maybe it was meant to happen this way. It was the thought mingling with other absent ideas in his mind. He took a slow, uncertain drag of his cigarette, dotting the sand with its dust.
Slowly, the sea moved in and out. Each rise of the water up the cool beach created a discrete, crackling hiss. The sea was watching him expectantly. Nature, he realized, had probably always found man's arrogance and ignorance an amusing diversion.
He had been a great source of diversion, he was sure.
A fiddler crab passed him by, and his eyes followed after it in trace until they rested on a pair of approaching feet. Bare feet that almost stepped on the small red crab, but stepped back quickly. The man bent and picked up the little creature with a queer, amused little cackle.
Slowly, Seifer lifted his handsome face to meet the gaze of an eccentric older man. He looked at least in his 60s, but possessed a great vibrancy and passion for life that outshone Seifer's relatively young age by great lengths. Not waiting for any permission, the old man returned his moderately expressionless look with another little cackle, tossing the fiddler crab out to scuttle on its way. He sat down beside Seifer.
"My, what a beautiful evening," the old man commented. Seifer hummed quietly in acknowledgement, watching colors swing about unsteadily on the wavering surface of water. Small gathers of white foam jumped at the beach from the waves.
"And it really does ease the heart, doesn't it?" He asked, a quirky little grin stretching his pale, chapped lips.
"Feels like it's trying to devour me," Seifer answered back, taking another long drag of his smoke. The old man chuckled in the way Seifer imagined only old men could.
"I've never heard one like that," the old man said, smile evident in his voice. "Then, I suppose you have you made yourself worth devouring this fine day?"
A slightly larger wave came to its sudden end at the beach as all the others, its loud, hissing release like water spilled on a much too hot surface.
"I might have." Seifer, though minimally amused, continued to stare out at the horizon stagnantly. The sea seemed to suddenly speed a bit in warning. This sea; this deep, endless blue, went on and would not yield to humor or humble a man like him.
"That's good news," the short man said, tugging on his long, white beard. "I'm glad you aren't positive of one or the other."
"Mm-hmm." Seifer listened to him with half an ear and kept the other one and a half on the gentle crashing of waves.
"It's sad, how most young folks waste much of their lives thinking they know everything."
A tall wave brooded upward and slunk down with an anticlimactic whirr. Seifer stared down at the cigarette he was turning lazily between his thumb and finger.
The old man stared at Seifer for a while, and the blonde only sat there and watched the sea rolling on and on, almost as if he expected something different than the water to come up on the beach.
"I see you've been through hard times," the bald little man said with a smile, softening his beard. "Have you become wiser because of it?"
Seifer stared on silently, eyes melting between focused and unfocused. The sky was darkening over the horizon, and his thoughts mingled somewhere between consciousness and daydreaming.
"I wouldn't know," he finally answered, and the old man cackled in delight.
"I would tell you that you are a very wise young man, but I have a feeling you've a bit of an ego."
Seifer's mouth twitched up in an awkward smile, eyes still fixed stagnantly upon the sea.
"Maybe."
"Indecisive, too," the old man chuckled. Seifer stopped in the middle of a long drag to blink at him and then closed his eyes again, finishing with a little puff.
"You contradicted yourself," Seifer sighed, closing his eyes, leaning his head back, and blowing out a long string of smoke.
"Oh ho ho!" The man cackled again, small eyes squinting in his laugh. "It's different, son, knowing everything and knowing yourself."
"Mm."
"You can't know everything. But you should know yourself. Do you know either?"
"Probably not," Seifer answered without hesitation, grinning to himself as he tapped his finger on the sand.
"And not a single straight answer." He cackled once more; a peculiar little sound that was, oddly enough, not bothering Seifer. "An uncertain boy. Have you done something you perhaps...regret?"
He took another drag of his cigarette, puffing it out in a shorter breath.
"Couldn't say." Seifer humored the little old man's observation. The sky was well dark now, and he could barely make out the beginnings of stars hanging high.
The man chuckled to himself once more, turning away to stare off at the dark horizon, as well. They sat in silence, unhindered by the absence of light, just as the sea rolled on its way, losing nothing but its heat to the darkness.
"Perhaps..." the old man mused, "Perhaps there is a someone you acted regrettably toward."
Seifer stayed silent, his arm stopping halfway up in bringing the smoke to his lips, and he lowered it again. This man obviously had no idea who Seifer was. And, the blonde thought, that made him a good companion in his time of aimless drifting.
"Could be," he said slowly, squinting his eyes as he noticed the silhouette of...something coming down the beach.
"So it could," the man chuckled, whistling a quick little tune and smoothing his beard again. Seifer had to wonder if he was a really self-conscious man (he didn't seem to be) or if it was a habit.
The silhouette became more of a blur as it neared them, slightly shown up by the moonlight. Seifer watched as if moved from a blur to a vague shape, and soon, formed the figure of two young persons.
"Hello there!" The old man called out to the two that were approaching more readily. "Come join us in friendly conversation!"
What an odd way to greet strangers, Seifer thought.
When the two had come near enough, Seifer shook his head to himself and took another quick drag of his cigarette, looking up at the new ones' faces.
"Oh-" He stopped himself. This wasn't good. He had pretty much been a refugee from all government after the war, and even after the hype about the Sorceress had died down, he hadn't spoken with anyone he'd known from before. He felt like he should say something, but he wasn't sure what to say.
What could be said to excuse him from everything he had done?
Bewildered gray eyes searched his, and he suddenly wondered what the first thing was that Squall would say to him after their...turbulent past. Would he freak out? Perhaps he would glare at him, or spit at him, or attack him. Perhaps he would call to have him arrested.
Not quite. He smiled.
"Seifer," he said, as if the simple uttering meant a thousand words. "I'm glad you're doing well."
Rinoa gasped and peeked out from Squall's other side. "You're alive," she smiled. "Thank Hyne."
Seifer, confused, shakily drew his cigarette to his mouth again. The sea sprayed gently against Squall and Rinoa's feet. It didn't look as retributive as it had the last time Seifer checked; it looked more like the foam border to a perfectly sweet picture.
"Leonhart." He nodded in acknowledgement, slightly dismissing, then glancing at the girl. "Rinoa."
Squall smiled again and nodded back, squeezing Rinoa's hand in his own before turning to continue his walk down the beach. Rinoa turned one last time and waved "bye" to him.
"Friends of yours?" The old man finally spoke up, watching Squall and Rinoa's retreating backs.
"...I-"
"Oh, wait," the man cut him off with that odd cackle. "You don't know. Am I right?"
Seifer laughed quietly.
"Guess so," he admitted, bowing his head with a little shake and tapping his cigarette off on the side of his knee.
"You're wiser now than you've ever been, young Seifer."
He glanced up.
"Do you think you're wise?" He asked the kooky old man. He cackled again.
"I'm afraid not. I'm just an old fool."
Seifer closed his eyes again and pushed his smoke back against his lips, letting it hang there as he dropped his arms down behind him.
"It might never change. But people do change." His expression softened and looked somewhat sad. "No matter who. Everyone changes."
"Indeed, they do."
"Sometimes," Seifer sighed, "I'm glad they do."
The old man chuckled. "If not, you would have remained ignorant forever."
"But...some people shouldn't change. I wish..."
The old man cleared his throat and watched another crab scuttle by, a strange shine in his eyes.
"Your friends were glowing with happiness," the bearded man said with a smile. "You should be glad for this sort of change."
Seifer paused and focused his gaze on the cool, moonlit sea. It was pushing against the beach more calmly now, and white, angry foam was no longer seen, nor was its distinguishable hiss heard. It was almost still.
"Maybe I'm selfish that way."
The man picked up one other little fiddler crab with another chuckle, leaning over to place it in Seifer's free hand.
"Of yourself," the man said, "think only what you know is true."
Seifer watched the crab scuttle in place, spinning in confused circles in his palm. He thought about it for a moment, then placed it back down on the sand with a sigh, taking another long drag of his cigarette. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and blew the smoke out in a slow, patient line.
o.o; Like I said; pointless artistry. Plays on words. Yay for Seifer.
Review, and then tell me who I should dissect in my next experiment. :D