Title: Over the Horizon
Rating: G/K
Pairing: SeiferxSquall
Summary: They won't turn around to face either other, because that just won't do.
Notes: This is dedicated to all of the lovely kids over at the SeiferxSquall LJ community that I moderate, Furere Aliqua. I don't really like the ending of this one, but hey, I'm content for the day.


They're standing side by side, shoulders brushing, but neither of them are looking at each other, and instead their eyes are focused on two different points out over the horizon, almost as if they didn't want to be there, to be standing next to each other.

Anyone who would have been walking by would have taken it that way. Two rivals forced to compromise and stand together on that little balcony overlooking the bustling streets of Deling city beneath, back-to-back, too stubborn to make eye contact.

But that's not the case.

"You've been standing out here for hours."

He doesn't turn to face the younger man when he speaks, but instead brushes his shoulder against his, letting him know that he wants a response. Squall doesn't turn to face him, but doesn't back away from the connection, either, and Seifer's glad about, because that's a sign that they've made it over the ignoring stage of this companionship.

If it could be called a companionship, that is. Seifer prefers to say that it's something more than that, but Squall would disagree with him, announcing that it's merely a friendship, at best.

Neither of them will call it what it is out loud, though, because that just wouldn't do. Because if they did, everyone would know, and that would be too much for either of their comfort, so they won't say it just yet.

"I was thinking." Squall's voice is quiet, wrapped in on itself like it always is, and thick with concentration and disuse from the time that he's been spending watching the cars buzz by along the stone streets below.

Seifer chuckles, leans closer to the railing and dips his hand over it, just to feel the cool breeze on his fingertips and overheated palm. He outlines a small basket of newspapers below them with the swirl of a finger, and for a moment, he squints down at the faint print, in some childish effort to read what's written there, but he comes out empty-handed.

He turns back to the point over the buildings that he had been watching before, but he keeps his back to Squall, even as he speaks.

"No surprise there, Princess. It's about all you ever do – you're gonna go gray doing that, you know."

Squall's shoulder twitches against his, and he can tell that the brunette is laughing. It takes all of his self-control to keep himself from turning around on the spot and drawing Squall into his arms and kissing him, kissing that smile that he knows is faint on the icy lips, and he grins and runs his hands over the metal railing that's supporting his weight to keep his hands busy. Turning around now would ruin it, and then people would know, and they'd be forced to say it out loud. And that can't happen yet.

"Did you come out here just to lecture me?" There's no malice in his words, like there would have been a long time ago, before things changed and morphed into this mockery of a friendship with a pinch of that something more tossed in. Again that maddening laugh shakes his shoulders, and this time, Seifer can swear that he can hear it drifting over the cool air and to his ears, and his fingers twitch. But he won't turn around, because that just won't do.

"Nah." He leans back, presses his body closer to Squall's, but he still doesn't face him. "Just wanted to keep you company, that's all."

There's a pause that follows his words, and a for a moment, he dreads that he's said something wrong, that being out here just for that wasn't quite the answer that Squall had been searching for.

Squall breaks the silent pact between them first, and turns those few inches to the side, just so Seifer can see dark blue eyes out of the corner of his own and catch the flicker of movement as the ex-Commander moves in close enough that Seifer can feel his chest rising and falling against his back. Slender arms that are cooled from the chill of the wind blowing between the brick buildings (Seifer wonders what Squall has against jackets all of the sudden, and he makes a note to bring one out next time) wrap around his broad chest, and he laughs a little at the fact that the hands don't quite overlap, even though he has no idea what Leonhart is thinking by doing this.

He's beginning to wonder if the injury that gave him leave from Garden had damaged more than his left leg.

"Stop talking, and I'll think about it."