Title: Going Home
Rating: G/K
Character: Seifer
Summary: Seifer finally makes up his mind about a few rather important matters.
Notes: For the themes "home" and "wanderlust" in the Fated Children LiveJournal community. This is actually a companion piece to a longer chapter fic that is currently in the process of being finished, though it's possible to read it alone.


He honestly has no idea what he's doing here.

One minute he was back in Timber, sitting in the hotel room with his hands folded in his lap and his face focused on that damned wooden flooring, watching it as if it had all the answers to his questions, and the next, he's walking around the room like a madman, packing up what little belongings he has and shoving them away into that old duffle bag that Raijin gave him all those years back. He hadn't even realized he was doing it until he was standing in front of the main desk, his hand sliding across the furnished surface of the counter and handing over the room key as he checked out a good three days earlier than he had originally planned, and he was walking out of the minute hotel and down the cobblestone streets toward the train station.

And that's where he's at now, viridian eyes staring up at the signs that are hanging a little crooked on the old wooden walls, scanning for those few words that he knows by heart before he finally spots them, and he grins a little, regardless of how utterly ridiculous this entire situation is.

With his better judgment – which happens to be trying to tell him to stop before he gets himself in too deep – shoved aside and bottled up for the time being, he's walking across the platform with a ticket in hand sooner than he can blink. He glances down at the little piece of cardboard, confused at his own actions, and he flips it over in his palm, examining the lettering on the slightly rough surface with a pointed glare and a frown.

A one-way trip back to Balamb, scheduled to leave in the next twenty minutes.

He falls down into one of the cold, metal waiting chairs with a heavy thud, and he stares at that tiny little slip as if it's the most interesting, yet horrifying, thing in the world.

What the hell is he doing here? After four years of devoting his life to traveling, to wandering from city to city and picking up odd jobs here and there, why is he finally heading backhome, of all places?

He was going back to the place he had tried to avoid?

Now that he looks at that ticket and reads those little black-print words over and over again, he realizes that maybe, just maybe, going back isn't such a bad idea after all.