Disclaimer: Yeah, ff8 and all the stuff involved don't belong to me. Do I get a cookie for figuring that out?

Warnings: some angst, sap, and a little bit of language (as if I could do a chapter without).

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(Seifer)

The trench coat rests in my lap, leaving only my sleeveless vest to protect me from the chill of the frigid ocean air, though with my current soaked status, I'll no doubt end up with a rare cold despite its effort. The full moon casts a glow to my surroundings, making everything seem surreal. A crab scutters sideways across the saturated sand, dancing in and out of the pulsing ocean waves.

The rain stopped about a half hour after I arrived here, and I wish it hadn't. It had helped my mood, giving me a sort of 'at-least-things-can't-get-worse' type of attitude. Now, however, there's nothing left to distract me from my thoughts.

Maybe I shouldn't have said those things to Squall. After all the time we were together, I know better. I know full well that he protects those he's close to, and he feels a certain bond with Caraway, seeing as to how the man so generously paid for his treatment at the hospital.

It's almost ironic. Squall grew up on Laguna's stories, hating the famous general for what he did to his dad. Now he's probably upset with Laguna for bad mouthing his future father-in-law.

I had done some research on Rinoa, just to figure out what Squall was getting himself into. To my surprise, I found that she had gone to Irvine's high school in Deling City, though Irvine had never heard of her. Not too surprising. He was more active in rodeo and farm clubs, technically a hick, whereas I'm sure her royal highness was ruling the school from her ivory pedestal.

On a few occasions I'd heard Laguna rant about her, though he never called her by her name. It was always, 'Caraway's daughter', the man having an unnatural fixation with the ex-general. I joined Caraway's company simply for the prestige, never figuring on actually meeting the big boss.

Sometimes life just isn't cool. Not cool at all.

I suppose I should apologize to Squall, though I really don't want to. So, he kicks me out, and that's that. I'll never see him again. It hurts, it breaks my heart, but I can't, I won't stay around to watch him be happy when I'm denied the only thing in life that ever made any sense. The love I had for him, that I still have, got me through some dark times. I don't care how selfish it is of me, I won't give that up for him.

Shaking my head, I close my eyes tightly. That's a load of crap, and I know it. I'd do anything for Squall. If being with Rinoa gives his life some meaning, I won't get in his way. I'm not happy about it, nor do I accept it, but I won't ruin his life again.

I hug my knees to my chest and stare out into the ocean. The water goes on forever, making me feel small and insignificant here on the edge of the continent. But I am. Insignificant, that is. My actions only affect one person – me.

If Squall does marry Rinoa, I'll quit my job and forget about law. I only got into it in the first place initially out of boredom, but continued my studies as I realized that a job where I could make good money arguing was the perfect job for me. I did enjoy the military. I'm only twenty-four; I'm sure they'll take me back without question. They even seemed disappointed to see me go, but without Squall, my time there was meaningless.

I finger the trench coat's sleeve. What am I doing here? It doesn't matter, because in the end I know that I'll just wind up apologizing to Squall. He doesn't remember me, he probably doesn't want to, and I can accept that fact. However, I can't stand to be away from him. I love him.

I rise from my seated position, futilely trying to brush thick, wet sand off of my body, and walk back to the car. I toss my coat in the passengers seat after a brief debate on whether or not to sit on it. Ultimately it's easier to clean the car than the jacket.

The ride passes in silence, and I'm at the dorm faster that I had wished. I park in my designated spot and kill the engine. It's tempting just to stay here all night, maybe through tomorrow, and then for the rest of my life. Unfortunately, that isn't a viable option for a number of reasons. Sighing, I open the door and get out of the car.

The dorm is dark and silent, though I know full well that Squall is awake. For some reason I never quite figured out, he prefers darkness. He doesn't turn on a light unless absolutely necessary, something that used to amuse me. I would wait until he was comfortable, and then walk into the room and turn on all available lights. It would annoy him to no end, which was really the only reason I would do it.

Living in constant darkness gave him amazing night vision, which helped in the military during night raids, but I, preferring the light, have amazing trouble finding my way in the dark. I shuffle slowly across the floor, fairly certain nothing is there, but not wanting to trip just the same.

I knock on Squall's door, not the least bit surprised when I don't get an answer. Assuming his old habits die hard, I enter without asking. The moon, filtering through the small window above his bed, illuminates the room softly, though not enough for me to make out his features. It's only when he shifts his body that I can tell he's laying flat on his back on his bed, which isn't good. He only does that when he's doing some heavy-duty thinking.

"Hey Squall," I say softly, my voice still sounding too loud in the quiet room. There's no answer, as per my expectations. I lean against the wall and sigh. "Look. I was an ass. I am an ass. I was . . . I just wasn't in the best of moods. This thing with Laguna, this move, a new job, all of this crap keeps piling up, you know?"

I know he knows what I'm talking about, but I can also tell that he's too pissed at me to answer. "I'm sorry. I honestly am. I shouldn't have said that about Rinoa. And I'll be honest, I can count on one hand the number of people who have heard those words from me."

As if he cares. To my surprise, he lifts up his body into a sitting position on the bed, his back against the wall under the window.

"Seifer . . ." He's quiet after that. I let him sort through his thoughts, not saying a word. I'm not being kicked out, which is a good sign. I'm also physically unharmed, which I consider a great sign. If he were truly upset with me, I'd at least have a split gut by now.

He lifts his head. "Seifer, you know me. I know that you do; I'm neither blind nor stupid."

I stare at him, without saying anything. How did he know? Okay, so maybe I was somewhat obvious. Panic rises in my chest. Does he know about us? Oh, God, what am I going to have to tell him? Okay, this is no big deal. Maybe he doesn't remember. If he doesn't, I can still keep our quasi relationship going by telling half-truths, because like Hell he'd keep me around if he knew that I had my dick up his ass at one point.

"Why didn't you tell me this?"

I shrug, knowing full well he can see me much better than I can see him. "It didn't seem important, really."

A hum sounds, Squall obviously not totally believing that. "So then, you do know me."

Well, there's no point in lying. "Yes, I do."

And then he asks the one question that I'm most afraid of, a question I desperately do not want to answer: "how?"

I could tell him the truth. I could tell him right now, and have it out in the open. But I won't. I love him too much to ruin him now. It shouldn't be too hard. I'll tell him the truth, simply omitting the fact that we were lovers, as good as married in both of our eyes.

"We . . . we were friends."

"Friends?"

I have to chuckle at the doubt in his voice. "Yes, and don't ask me how it came to be that way. We were partnered together in boot camp. We had both run away from home, me trying to prove something, and you wanting to be just like your hero."

There's a pause. "Laguna?"

"Heh. Yes, Laguna. He's an idiot, I'll grant you, but a damned smart one. Squall, exactly how much do you want to know?"

This time, there's no hesitation. "Everything."

Hm, not too surprising. "Alright. Do you want to discuss it here, or can we go somewhere more comfortable?"

He doesn't say anything, but the creak of the mattress and his shadowy figure rising from the bed are clear answers my question.

We move into the living room, myself following him closely, as my eyes haven't entirely adjusted yet. He curls up in the armchair, leaving me to sit on the sofa.

"All right. Any burning questions?"

A slight pause. "What happened to me?"

"What, the accident? You were called out on a mission, a basic thing mostly meant to train new recruits. I won't give you the details on that. Essentially, you were in a plane, but something was wrong with it, some mundane thing that should have been caught immediately." Funny how fate works, sometimes. "The controls gave out, and it crashed. That's pretty much all we know. Whatever was wrong with the plane messed up the tracking device, so we had no idea where the plane came down. By the time we figured it out from calls to emergency services, you were gone, something we could never figure out. It crashed in the middle of the countryside. The other four were dead already. But with you, except for some blood, there was nothing. You weren't in any of the hospitals in the surrounding areas. Both the army and Laguna offered a reward and looked everywhere, but obviously that didn't work."

"Were we in the Air Force?"

I frown, confused. "No, how do you figure that?"

He shrugs. "I was in a helicopter."

Ah. "Well, no. We were in a special branch where all of the truly talented kiddies were shoved. We were mercenaries."

He makes a choking noise and shoots straight up in his chair. "Excuse me?"

"What?"

"I killed people? For money?"

"That you did." I would mention that he also enjoyed the job, but I don't feel like aggravating him further. Watching his obvious horror at the thought of killing an 'innocent', I shake my head. Christ, he sure as hell changed. It's too bad that my feelings for him haven't.

He stares off into space for a good minute or so, before shaking his head as if to clear it. Great, I just gave him something to obsess about later. Ten gil says he changes the subject.

"Seifer, did Laguna tell me the truth yesterday?"

Well, I win that little wager. "What truth?"

"Hn. You didn't hear his story?"

"Nope. Sorry, I came in just when he was saying to watch your back around someone. You'll have to be more specific."

"Was James in the military?"

I frown at him, confused. "Of course; everyone knows that. He was a high ranking general."

I can feel him scowl at me. But honestly, how did he not know even that? Didn't he do any background research on the man that saved his life?

"Do you know about my parents?"

. . . well, shit. Of all the questions, he would ask this of me. "Yes. I do."

"My mother. . ." he trails off; the question is implied.

"Obviously I never met Raine, but you had some good memories of her. She died when you were a kid. Laguna took over after that, as your biological father was a bum or something. You never told me that part of it. You know, I can see what you're going through, and I know things don't make sense, but in your own little way, you love that man." He scoffs, and I smirk. "No, really. The only trouble you two ever had was that he wouldn't let you enter the military academy. Eventually it pissed you off to the point that you left before it would ruin your relationship with him. Blood means nothing. So far as I'm concerned, that man is your father."

"You two are close?"

The question stops me momentarily; I had never really thought about it. "Yeah, I guess we are. My own father was a jerk, so Laguna kind of filled that role. You know, the dad I never had and all that sentimental crap. He's a good guy who attracts bad things."

There's a pause while Squall thinks. I can see him more clearly now, my eyes having had time to get used to the darkness.

There's a scratch at the glass door, momentarily startling both of us. I relax immediately, my sense telling me it's just that damned dog again. Squall gets up and lets the mutt in. I guess he put him outside so that he could think without a wet dog nose being shoved in his face. Immediately the dog jumps on the couch and lies down, resting his large head on my lap. I scratch his ears softly as Squall sits back down, still trying to sort things out in his head.

Finally, he looks at me. "Seifer, that cat . . . when you handed him to me, I think I had a flashback."

Well, that explains a lot.

"I was sitting down somewhere, and there was a big gray cat on my lap, and a woman was asking where he was, and I think I heard your voice . . ." he stares at me steadily, a frown on his face, his expression silently demanding answers to an unasked question.

I snuggle further down on the couch. "All right, that makes more sense. That gray cat's name was Griever, which means that that woman was probably Selphie. Irvine's girlfriend," I clarify. "The four of us lived together in a beach house."

He looks at me oddly, but doesn't voice an opinion.

"I'll have to take you up there. See if it does anything for your memory." Do I really want that to happen? Selfishly, yes, but I don't want to see him hurt.

There's another long silence between us. I'm not sure what to say to him, and for once I have no idea what's going through his head.

A scratch at my door and a yowl breaks the silence unexpectedly. The dog in my lap whines, scrambles off of the couch, and high tails it for Squall's bedroom. I smirk at this, until I look at Squall, who is clearly not amused. Hmph. Kill joy.

Without warning he rises, shuts the door to his room, locking the dog inside, and then opens the door to mine. Griever rushes out and immediately tries to tie himself in a knot around Squall's legs. Squall bends over and picks the fur ball up and carries him back to the chair. The cat settles into his lap as if he were born to sit there, closes his eyes in bliss, and purrs as Squall pets him. The brunette simply goes back to staring at a wall.

As I'm obviously being ignored while he's off in Squa-la land, I take the moment to think things over. Selphie would love to see Squall again, and God knows the woman has enough tact to not say anything stupid to him concerning our past relationship. I think she's missed him almost as much as I have, he being the only one who would actually help her around the house without complaint. The two of them had formed an odd sort of friendship over the time they knew each other, something Irvine and I constantly teased them about, though we were both secure in our respective lovers loyalties.

Then there's the simple fact that Squall loved the ocean. I tried looking up some cures on Amnesia, and there was nothing conclusive, but it's been said that recognition couldn't hurt. That is, show the patient something that used to affect them, and maybe it would spark some brain matter into remembering something.

Why does life have to be so fucking difficult? As horrible as the thought is, why couldn't Rinoa have died in that car crash that took her mother? Then again, if she had, maybe Squall wouldn't be alive today. If it weren't for her, well, her and her child, there would be nothing in my way to keep me from taking Squall back.

And then there's the whole sexuality thing. The whole time we were together, he expressed an intense sexual dislike for females of any shape or form. He swore up and down that he was strictly dickly, and nothing would change that. However, all it takes is a bop on the head, and he's having sex with a woman. Granted, an attractive woman, beautiful, even, but a woman nonetheless. Can amnesia truly do that to a person? Make them change their whole behavioral and social pattern? What else can it change? Why are certain things forgotten but not others?

Why did it have to be Squall?

. . . that's a good point. What if it had been me with amnesia? If I were in Squall's place, what would I want?

Sad to say, but I have no idea. I can't even comprehend the magnitude of what he's been through. He's already uprooted his life twice . . . God, if I say that anymore I'm going to sound like a broken record.

". . . Seifer?" Squall's voice is a surprise.

"Hm?"

". . . nothing." He looks down at the cat in his lap.

Immediately my curiosity is piqued. "Ah ah, Squall. Something."

He scowls. "… …"

"And I'm sure it wasn't that. What's up?"

There's another lengthy pause before he answers. ". . . I'm hungry."

I smirk at him. "That's obviously not what you were thinking, but fair enough." I check my watch. It's after ten at night. "Well, it's late. Not many good places will be open, so I'll cook. What do you want?"

He narrows his eyes at me, but doesn't say what bothers him. Instead he simply relaxes back in the cushy chair. "Chicken something would be nice."

Well, that certainly narrows my options. "Okay, great. That leaves us with . . ." I count on my fingers as I talk. "Fried chicken, baked chicken, chicken fettuccini, chicken strips, lemon chicken, orange chicken, lime chicken, stuffed chicken, chicken a la king, chicken cordon bleu, chicken . . ."

"Seifer."

"Yeah?"

"Shut the hell up and just make me some chicken."

I grin at him. "As my master demands, so I obey."

Obviously not amused, he picks the large kitten up and carries it with him into the small kitchen. I follow, grateful for whoever keeps the food supply up.

The chicken is frozen, so dinner won't be ready for quite some time yet. I inform Squall of this fact, take out some frozen chicken breasts, remove them from the package, and plunk them in a bowl of steaming hot water to thaw.

I drop into the chair across from him at the small, circular table, amused at his obvious distaste of the way I sit down. Amnesia or not, some things never change.

"You know, for a guy who wants to know everything, you sure don't ask much."

He snorts lightly. "Care to trade places? It's not as easy as it seems."

Well, that I can imagine. "All right. Let's see. Your name is Squall Leonhart. You don't have a middle name. Your favorite color is dark blue, and your favorite animal is the lion. Your favorite number's twenty-three. Your favorite drink is water, and you can't stand kool-aid or tea. Your preferred flavor of ice cream is cookie crunch, though you tell people that it's vanilla. Any of that still true?"

He thinks for a minute. "I don't have a favorite number."

"Fair enough. You hate body hair, especially facial, stupid people, bigots, excessive noise, the color yellow, and anything with scales freaks you out, whether it be fish or reptile."

At his raised eyebrow, I add, "among other things."

He nods again, features partly illuminated by the moonlight so that he almost seems ethereal. God, he's beautiful, and he has no idea. 'Course, it's not like I can tell him that without having some heavy explaining to do.

It's so fucking stupid. Looking at him, I could care less about his new life. I want him to remember me. Maybe I should just tell him everything, and fuck this friendship shit.

I love him so much, and it's almost physically painful that he doesn't hold the same feelings for me anymore. I find myself having to restrain myself from reaching out and touching him, from saying to him some random thing that would show my true feelings for him. I would just walk away from this mess, but to leave him forever would be far more excruciating than having him around, if only as a friend, knowing of his 'true' feeling for me but never being able to experience them and always knowing that there will never again be anything between us.

I lean forward and rest my head against my arms. Fate is a cruel, cruel bitch.

…………………………………………………………….

Squall

Three years. Three years I've wondered about my past. Granted, more in the first few months, but it's always in the back of my head. Why is it that now I have somebody who can tell me everything, and I can't think of anything to ask?

I watch as Seifer moves around the kitchen, pulling various items out of their places. He hums to himself in a distracted manner, no tune that I've ever heard, as he prepares our dinner.

I knew he knew me. I don't know how I knew. It's the way he looks at me sometimes, or the things he says in an offhand manner, things that you just don't say to someone you've only known for less than a week.

Of course, it hasn't just been a week for Seifer. He said we became friends in the military. How long ago was that? How far back do we go?

I can't hate him, nor can I blame him for making me question myself. It was supposed to be easy. I was going to get married, make my way up in this law firm, and move on with my life. Then comes Seifer, and he brings my past with him. He has a valid point about Caraway controlling the records, and I'll admit I never entirely liked the man, though I do respect him.

However, I'm not marrying James. I'm marrying Rinoa. We're going to have a child, and I love her. I can't imagine living my life without her. She's done so much for me, the least of which was saving my life. She helped me forget.

But what about the other one? Laguna said that in my old life, I loved another person. Should I find out about her? I'm sure that Seifer would know about her. Then again, chances are she's moved on with her life after all this time, and it would probably be best to leave her alone.

Then again, if Rinoa went missing, I would want closure, no matter how much time had passed.

"Seifer?"

"Yeah? Oh, hold on. Just let me . . . fuck!" My large roommate quickly drops the oven hot chicken onto the counter top and blows on his wrist, then shakes it furiously. He examines what I assume to be a burn closely, then sighs. "Brilliant move, Almasy."

Shaking his head, he transfers the cooked chicken to a platter, and then brings it to the table. God, it smells delicious.

He hands me a plate and silverware, sets his own place, and then collapses in the chair. Christ, does he have to do that?

He looks at me, and then laughs. "Lighten up, kid. So," he digs into the chicken. "What did you want?"

I place some of the bird on my own plate. "Laguna said that before my accident, I was in love with someone."

Seifer hesitates in his movements, something I barely notice, and then goes back to picking apart his chicken. "Oh?"

"Who was she?"

He looks at me then, eyebrows arched high on his forehead, and then frowns. "Does it really matter right now?"

"Yes." It matters to me.

He looks at me as one would look at an interesting organism under a microscope. "What do you want to know about her?"

I raise my own eyebrow at him. "Her name, for one."

He leans back in his chair and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "You know, could we skip that part? I don't think she would want you to know."

"Hn." Whatever. I'll ask Laguna later. "What was she like?"

He laughs at that, though I've no idea why. "She was fun. A pain in the ass, as you mentioned on several occasions, but you two really cared for each other. She had a temper, but you were able to bring her down. Most of it was just hot air, anyway. She was funny. She could make you laugh. She could annoy you, as well, but you wouldn't have it any other way." He shrugs. "You loved her, and she was absolutely crazy about you. You guys had everything in your relationship but a marriage certificate, and as far as you were concerned, you didn't need one, because what you had was just as good."

That's what Laguna had mentioned. "Why?"

He cocks his head to the side. "Why what?"

"If we were so much in love, why weren't we married?"

Seifer smirks. "Because one of you would have had to wear a dress down the aisle, and she swore up and down that it wouldn't be her."

We didn't marry because she wouldn't wear a dress? . . . the Hell?

"What happened to her?"

"What, after the accident?" I nod, and Seifer shrugs. "She was really fucked up. She waited a long time for you to return, but you know, people have to move on with their lives. She thought about you every day. You were the only person she ever really loved, you know." He laughs. "No, you don't know, do you. A lot of people told her to give up. It was hard on her."

"Hn. Did you tell her to?"

He stares at me for a moment, frowning slightly in thought. "No. I always thought you would come back someday, like one of those stupid fairy tales. She thought about giving up, but hated to do it. Ultimately she couldn't live with not knowing. She needed something more."

"So she just moved on with her life?"

"Mm. I guess you could say that." He shoves a piece of the cooked bird into his mouth and grins at something.

I watch him chew for a moment before asking, "How long were we together?"

He swallows before answering, something I find commendable. "You were in a relationship for just under three years, if that's what you mean. You knew each other for about a year before that."

I'm about to say that that is no time at all to form a relationship akin to a marriage, but bite my words when I realize I've only known Rinoa for three years, and am set to marry next week. Seifer smiles at my hesitation, and I scowl and take a bite of the chicken.

My eyes widen slightly at the exquisite flavor, saliva immediately filling my mouth at the taste. It's perfect, nice and tender, with just a hint of . . . something.

"I put some rosemary on it," Seifer volunteers, giving me an odd look. He has a half smile on his face, but he also looks somewhat sad. I frown at him, and then look down at my plate, poking at the chicken with a fork.

Who knew that horrid looking plant . . . or is it an herb? Whatever it is, it tastes remarkable. I can't remember the last time I took seconds. Heh, I wonder if I can take Seifer with Rinoa and I as a personal chef. Then again, Seifer hates Rinoa.

Right. I forgot about that. After coming home I had locked Seifer out on the balcony and had then gone to my room to think. Seifer is one of the only two people who can tell me about my past, that I'm aware of. Because of that, I can't just make good on my threat to kick him out. Also, it's nice to have the blonde around, as much as I dislike admitting it.

I get the feeling that he's holding something back, something important. However, I'm not sure that I want to know what that is. Already my view of James has been skewered. What if Seifer turns me off of Rinoa? I don't think that he can – I hope he can't -, but it's better off to keep them separated. I can't just leave her. I love her, and our child.

Christ, I'm going to be a father. We should probably start thinking of names and all of the other things that come with having a child. I've been looking at a house close to the firm; it's small, compared to what Rinoa is used to, but still large as residences go and in a great neighborhood, with a highly reputable school close by. I don't care about the sex of the child, though if it's a girl, I hope it looks like Rinoa. Regardless, I hope it inherits her gorgeous smile. A smile is important, and is something I have trouble with. We should probably even look into Lamaze.

Heh, I wonder what it will call me? 'Dad', probably, though 'papa' wouldn't be too bad. No 'pop', I couldn't handle that, and 'father' is simply to formal. I'm going to be a dad . . .

"Yo, Squall."

I look up at my roommate, who's giving me an odd look. "…?"

"You had a weird grin on your face. Everything all right?"

"Hn. Just thinking."

"Oh?" He points his fork at me. "What about?"

I shrug, not really wanting to mention the child he's so sure isn't mine, but knowing that he won't give up until I tell him what's on my mind. "The child."

Contrary to the outburst I'm half expecting, he simply nods. "Got a name picked out?"

". . . no."

Hr grins playfully. "Cecil, or Gertrude. Ooh, how about Clarence? It doesn't get much more manly than that."

I glare at him. I work with a Cecil, and he's a decent guy.

"No? Okay, Brunhilda? Or," he actually waggles his eyebrows at me. "How about Squall Junior?" Unfazed by my dark look, he smiles at me. "Kind of classy. You could start a lineage, you know? A little Leon-heartless dynasty."

. . . the Hell? "'Leon-heartless'?"

He shrugs. "Nothing. Just a little nickname Irvine thought up while we were in the military. It sort of stuck."

"Irvine was with us in the military?"

"Uh huh. 'Cept he transferred from Galbadia. He's the one that owns the beach house, and we would go there during leave. He met Selphie while you and I were . . ." immediately he flushes red, and then continues. "Uh, catching up on some rest at the beach house. The rest is sort of history."

I raise an eyebrow at him. Obviously we weren't catching up on some rest. See, this is what I'm talking about. He's keeping something from me, and it's starting to irk me.

"Hey, you want to go there?"

". . . ?" Where?

"The beach house. I think you'd like it. We could go tomorrow."

I think about the cat memory – flashback, whatever it was. That was in the beach house. Maybe if I go, I'll remember something else. ". . . all right. But I have an appointment in the afternoon, so it will have to be after five"

"Great." He smiles again, and tucks into his meal with an air of finality.

After a brief moments hesitance, I join him.

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BS: Well, it's a push in the right direction ;) A strong, unnecessarily rough push. I'll just blame Seifer for that, since he's getting flack from everyone else at the moment :P He's being difficult – not being able to decide what he wants to do with Squall. Phft, I have a good idea, just not Seifer. Fun, fun.

I'm American, so I use American military terms. However, I know next to nothing about that (or law, smooth move on my part :P), so I'm making a bunch of stuff up :D I love A.U.s

Also, before I get people on my case – Squall is with Rinoa, and thus figures he is 'straight'. So, he assumes his past love is female. When Seifer is telling Squall about 'her', he is really referring to himself and their relationship. Okay? No flames concerning this? Good. .-

Thanks for reading :D