~ Chapter Forty-Two - Old Truths ~
[The Stowaway, Wendel Township, Thursday, 30th of October, 10:16 pm]
Stepping out into the fresh evening air, Seifer didn't have to look far for Squall. The man stood leaning against a nearby hitching post, staring off into the distance with his hands stuffed in his pockets and a foot planted back against the post in a casual show of grace. Picture fucking perfect. It was that exact dreamy, absentminded look that had attracted the gaze of many fawning cadets back at Garden, along with his own. Hyne, he used to be just as clueless as Squall back then. Smiling at the memory, he walked closer, thinking his approach had gone unnoticed when Squall's gaze turned to meet his own.
Squall took in the curl to Seifer's lips and lack of tension in the man's gait with relief. It seemed that in his absence the old posse of friends had been able to maintain an amicable mood. Straightening from his lean, he waited for Seifer to draw within reach. Their surroundings were deserted apart from a few pub-crawlers that were migrating from one den to the next.
"Good phone call?"
Ignoring the question, he curled a hand into Seifer's jacket and pulled the man in close for a kiss. After the evening's many stressors and some very vocal opposition, the sudden need for something tangible overwhelmed him. He allowed Seifer to wrap strong arms around his lower back, the press of his lips matched with enthusiasm. He lingered for as long as his sense of propriety would let him before breaking their kiss.
Seifer smirked at Squall's boldness. "I'll take that as a yes," he teased before sneaking in another brief kiss.
Squall let out a soft huff and pulled away to a slightly more respectable distance, hiding his self-consciousness at being called out on his zeal. "Quistis will get back to me with intel before morning."
"Is she back at Garden?"
"She's still in Esthar. Meetings for the new Garden."
"Can't say I envy her." Seifer shook his head. "Sounds like you owe me for stealing you away," he added, trying to reel Squall back into his hold.
Squall raised an eyebrow at the skewed retelling of facts. "As I recall, I stole you away."
"Hn, and I recall you driving like a madman to make that train," Seifer countered, leaning in for another kiss, breathing deeply of Squall's scent at the press of their lips. "Admit it. You just can't get enough of me, can you, Commander?"
Rolling his eyes, Squall bit back the petty 'whatever' that lay at the tip of his tongue. He couldn't actually deny any of what Seifer had just said. He'd run several red lights, but he wouldn't tell Seifer that. Steeling himself against the lopsided grin that suited Seifer so well, he refused to play into the bastard's charms.
Smirk widening, Seifer knew better than the unimpressed look Squall was fixing him with. The mere fact that Squall hadn't escaped his embrace yet was more than proof enough. Still, Squall wouldn't allow much more in public, so he pulled him close for a final kiss and enjoyed every last lingering second of it before breaking away.
Silence fell between them as he regarded the man he'd known for as long as he could remember, and apparently even further back than that. He hadn't lost his ability to read Squall in the years they'd spent apart. The phone call had been a flimsy excuse for Squall to escape dinner, and he knew without a doubt that the man would've bailed much sooner if it hadn't been for the promises they'd made that morning. Hell, back at Garden Squall would've wandered off to a place where even Seifer couldn't track him down. But here Squall was. Waiting. For him.
Shit, Squall had already done so much for him today, putting up with Fu's bullshit for his sake. And that was after Squall had put up with his bullshit, giving him a second chance he hardly deserved. The least he could do was to show Squall some Hyne-damned appreciation in return. The fun in their room would just have to wait a little longer.
"Let's go for a walk," he said, turning to lead the way. "There's something I want to show you."
Raising an eyebrow, Squall followed after Seifer as the man walked down the street, away from the inn. He'd expected a quick retreat into their room once Seifer's business with his friends was concluded, and while he didn't doubt the man would've quickly distracted him from his thoughts, after the day's tumultuous events he preferred some time to process all that had happened.
Wondering at Seifer's motives, he let himself be led north along increasingly narrow streets. They traded Wendel's center and its rowdy pubs for quieter neighborhoods, the curtains drawn on the houses they passed. The scent of the lake thickened as they drew closer to the harbor, betraying Seifer's destination. The residential streets opened up again into wider streets, marked by heavy traffic and the lingering scents of the day's catch. As they emerged onto Wendel's quayside, a place that would've been bustling with activity during the day, Squall felt a sense of calm take root in him. Street lights illuminated their path, and faint moonlight rippled atop the dark water beyond the quay. The stands of the fish market they passed were empty and abandoned. Several large fishing boats lined the wharfs, anchored and tied down, bobbing gently on the calm waters. Their crews were nowhere to be seen. Even the gulls were silent.
Reminded of Balamb's harbor at night, Squall had always liked the eerie sense of quiet that could descend on even the busiest of districts, as long as the hour was late enough. At Garden, privacy and solitude had always been hard to come by, so the night had often given him refuge from nosy roommates, well-meaning instructors and one vexing rival. He couldn't even recall how many times he'd ignored curfew in favor of sneaking out. It felt strange to be on a similar nighttime outing, this time with Seifer beside him.
Their footsteps rang out into the quiet evening as Seifer continued to lead their walk, turning west along the quay. The man had yet to speak a word, his hands stuffed into his pockets and a relaxed set to his face that seemed to suggest Seifer appreciated the calm just as much as he did. When they arrived at the end of the quay and the street lights' illumination, Seifer guided them down a set of stairs and a pebbled slope that led onto the rocky lakeside.
The dark made for a tricky walk across the uneven terrain, small critters scuttling away from their path and disappearing beneath rocks. Ahead of them, a dark shape loomed big in the night. The farther they moved away from the town and its lights, the clearer it became as his eyes adjusted to the dark. It was a hill, overlooking the lake and the town. Seifer steered them up its side, rocks and pebbles slipping beneath their feet as they navigated their way up. After a short climb, they crested the hilltop, revealing the sight beyond.
Squall held his breath, briefly stunned by the view. Obel Lake's craggy lakeside harbored many large coves, and apparently Wendel was nestled in one of them. The town and Wendel's cove now behind them, he was looking out over Obel Lake's massive expanse of water. Not a single cloud obscured the bright scattering of stars overhead, and as far as the eye could see, tiny lights floated on the water's surface, as if mirroring the splendor of the night sky. They were varying shades of green and white, some blue. Unsure what he was looking at, he turned to glance Seifer's way.
"They're small boats, one or two fishermen a piece. They use lights to attract fish, rods to catch 'em. Nighttime fishing is a popular pastime here. More for sport than anything. During the day, the big boats with nets come in, but at night you get this."
Giving up on counting the number of boats on the water, Squall took in the beauty of a nighttime view he'd never seen before. How had Seifer known to take him here?
Seifer moved to sit down and pointed out towards the lake. "See how they cluster together in places? That's where the fish are. If you're anchored in the wrong spot, you can go all night without a catch. It's a pain to fish in the dark; takes skill. No daylight and the lights you use to attract the fish are submerged in the water, so it's tricky to handle your gear. It's all in the feel."
"You've been out there yourself?" Squall asked, sitting down as well.
"Yup. Raijin roped Fu and me into it. Raijin's always had a fetish for fishing. Even back at Balamb. Used to drag Fu and me into it back then too." Seifer looked back on those times with fondness, his two best friends always managing to cause a stir and find fun wherever they went. "You ever gone fishing?"
Unsurprised when Squall shook his head, he looked back out over the water. For someone who loved solitude and getting lost in their own head, Squall had an unexpected impatient streak that was most likely incompatible with something as drawn-out as fishing.
He never would've tried it either if not for Raijin, and he definitely appreciated how it had led him to this spot, perched high above the lake. He'd walked up here only once before. They'd rented a boat for the day and while the sun had still been out he'd spotted the hill. He'd ventured up here afterwards. He hadn't told Fujin or Raijin that he'd snuck out here. It had been a moment filled with awe at being alive and able to experience something so stunning. He could tell Squall was enjoying it now too. The cold breeze was ruffling the man's locks, throwing them into disarray, but Squall paid it no heed as he regarded the waters, his thoughts no doubt already miles away. His own gaze was stuck too, but on the man by his side.
His lips quirked up at the corners as he watched Squall's profile. No doubt he looked like a fucking love-struck fool. When Squall's gaze broke away from the lake to meet his own, his grin changed into something more sincere as he leaned in close and kissed him. A slow caress of lips and tongues. They remained like that, locked in each other's warmth. When they moved apart, he kept his arm wrapped tightly around Squall's back.
It felt so natural, yet so unlike anything he'd ever imagined. A month ago he would never have expected to willingly give up his life as a bachelor. He'd expected his future to be filled with one night stands, no strings attached. Now he knew exactly who he'd be with at every given opportunity and he had absolutely no regrets. And he was a free man. Free of his guilt, free to enjoy every second of this and not feel unworthy. Squall had given him this.
His boyfriend.
He repeated the word in his mind, unlikely as it was for Squall to have agreed to this. He didn't even know what it all meant, not truly. This was a first for him, in every way that mattered.
What did Squall expect of their relationship? Probably not much, knowing Squall. Or at least the man would keep any wishes and hopes very close to his heart and never speak them out loud. Then again, Squall had surprised him these past few days. While still taciturn, the man had changed from the loner cadet he'd once been. There had been a melancholy kind of hardness to Squall back then. A self-imposed disinterest in forging any kind of bond. An impenetrable exterior.
Not so much anymore.
Wondering what their childhood had been like to have instilled such solitude in Squall back at Garden, he tried to remember, but all he managed to conjure up was the sense that somehow this moment felt familiar, them sitting next to each other, overlooking the waters.
Faint images teased at the edges of his recollection as he tried to force the sense of deja vu into something more tangible. He recalled a beam of light, ever turning, illuminating the night. The lighthouse. Water had been in front of him, just like now, and Squall had been by his side, much younger. It had to be a memory from their time at the orphanage. It felt like something they'd done more than once, the memory unfurling with increasing clarity but different details appearing that didn't mesh. Daytime, nighttime. Different clothes. A toy sword in his hand. A collection of seashells and rocks.
"Did we use to do this? At the orphanage?"
Pulled from his musings by the unexpected question, Squall turned to look at Seifer. Was Seifer trying to remember? Hope rising at the thought, he still decided to tread carefully. "We did," he confirmed, thinking back to those days. "The cliffs near the orphanage. Sometimes the lighthouse nearby, when the tides were low enough." And when Matron had been too busy to keep track of them.
"I remember the lighthouse," Seifer said, dropping his hands to the stone behind him as he thought. When he focused on his memories, the details gained a crispness. He could see it in his mind now; the tall structure and the bright light it had cast into the night, guiding their path. He recalled the effort of wading through the icy waters to reach the lighthouse, the pull of the tides, his shoes and pants soaked. It had been a long climb up the stairs. It felt odd not remembering more, especially when Squall knew much more about his past than he did himself. "What's your favorite memory? From back then?"
Squall frowned, unsure of how to answer. Even the best of memories had eventually been overshadowed by the events that had followed. The relatively happy days of following Ellone around had lost their shine after her abandonment of him. Or at least so he had perceived it at the time. Playing with the other kids only for them to leave one by one; that had quickly become an unalterable reality to him even as a child. Even the times spent with Seifer held a bittersweet edge. Part of him had always been waiting for the next blow, waiting for Seifer to leave as well. Just as with photographs, he found it difficult to quantify the value of such double-edged memories, let alone single one out as his favorite.
"I've never thought about it like that," he finally said.
"But you remember lots from back then, right? Like the stuff you told me about?"
"I do," Squall said slowly, wondering at the reason behind Seifer's questions.
Seifer looked down at where his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. On the one hand he wanted to remember how those years had shaped him, where he had come from. His roots. On the other hand he had a feeling he'd never fit in at the orphanage any more than he had at Garden, and any memories of her weren't welcome at all.
When Squall didn't say anything further, he looked back out at the shimmering lights on the lake. "I knew I was in that photograph Quistis showed me. I could tell by the way she talked about it, but I couldn't recognize myself. Don't even know what I looked like as a kid."
Squall studied the man beside him. No wonder Seifer's reaction to the photograph had been so lukewarm. Focused as he'd been on avoiding the topic of Matron, he hadn't even considered the finer points of Seifer's confusion. "Few would, without photographs."
Seifer nodded. "Guess I'm curious. Probably a lot of stuff that's better left alone though."
Suppressing a frown, Squall didn't know how to advise Seifer in this, especially since the man might not even have a choice in the matter. "The memories might keep coming, now that you've started to remember," he warned. "It was like that for me."
"You didn't work on remembering them then?"
"Not at first," Squall admitted, thinking back to those hectic days. "It started with random flashes. No context. But after a while…" He'd started to look for answers about himself and the mess his life had become. "I had to know."
Seifer stole a glance at Squall. "Had to know what?" He dreaded the answer, knew he shouldn't ask the question when the whole point of bringing Squall up here had been to give Squall a chance to unwind, but there was no way he could leave this alone.
Squall's brow wrinkled as he looked for the right words. He'd never talked about this, and he didn't know how to deliver an explanation without touching on sensitive topics. "I didn't… trust who I was by the end of it," he started after a moment's hesitation. The choices he'd made, the lives lost, the orders he'd followed with naive stupidity. The knowledge that his childhood had been manipulated by forces through time. His growing misgivings and suspicions concerning Seifer. All of it had created such a confusion in his mind. "I needed to figure out why things ended up the way they did. To understand myself and the people around me." He looked away, keeping his voice unaffected. "I had a lot of time to think… afterwards."
Seifer took a slow breath and looked out over the lake as well. "You mean after the war," he stated plainly, not wanting Squall to pussyfoot around this. He knew he'd blown up at every other mention of the war, but he was going to fight it this time. They'd make it through this conversation without him lashing out or heading for the nearest bottle of booze. He was determined. "How come you had lots of time? Weren't you thrown straight into the Lunar Cry clean up?"
Squall glanced at Seifer, assessing the man's expression. "Yes and no," he started, loath to think back on any of it. "I was trapped inside Time Compression after Ultimecia died. The others got out, but I followed her too far. The spell collapsed with me inside." He frowned at recalling the moment he'd first realized there was no way out. No escape. Aware that Seifer would need more explanation than that, he forced himself to continue. "For everyone on the outside it was a week. For me…" An eternity. "...longer."
Seifer felt the familiar stirrings of anger and powerlessness start to rise inside him, as it had so many times before. He'd always assumed Squall had been celebrating after the defeat of Ultimecia before being thrown back into the fray. "You were stuck in the past?"
Squall shook his head. "Someplace else, outside of time." Even Odine had only been able to theorize and speculate about the nature of his entrapment. "A black sky and cracked earth. Dark mists. Nothing else."
A deep frown settled on Seifer's brow. "Nothing?" Squall's silence was the only confirmation he received. "How did you survive?"
"There was no passage of time," Squall replied evenly, suppressing the remembered dread. "No change." He'd been unable to sleep, or even die in that place. His body had been suspended in time, his wounds from the final battle never closing or healing, but no longer bleeding either. The constant throb of pain had been his only tether to the reality he'd left behind. That and his memories. "I just… existed."
"Fuck, Squall… How long did it feel like you were there for?"
Battling a frown, Squall forced himself to shrug. "Long enough. In the end it doesn't matter. I got out."
Seifer huffed, but didn't press any further. "Must have been an absolute headfuck. Can't believe you had to go through that."
Squall almost demanded for Seifer not to pity him, but after all the man had bared of his own pain… He couldn't. Glancing beside him, he noticed the suppressed anger in the lines of Seifer's face. "It's long in the past now," he reminded quietly.
Seifer sighed. Even if nearly three years had passed since then, an experience like that had to have left its marks. Hell, for all he knew, Squall could have been trapped in that place for what had seemed like years. Ellone had described it as a weird stretch of endlessness. All of his protective urges kicking in, he wished he could turn back time. "I should have been there with you. From the start, until the end."
Squall frowned at the mere thought of anyone else having been trapped alongside him. On his own, he'd at least found some measure of peace in the knowledge that the others had most likely made it out. "I made my choices and faced the consequences," he said evenly. "I regret a lot of things, but I don't regret chasing her down."
"Even though you had to go through hell," Seifer commented under his breath, still hating the fact that he hadn't been there by Squall's side. Instead the man had been trapped in that place with fresh memories of war and torture. He swallowed thickly, realizing he would have featured heavily in Squall's thoughts during that time. "Just how many times did you relive D-District in there?"
Alarmed by where the conversation was going, Squall equally disliked the physical distance that had grown between them. Seifer was no longer sitting close, his arms wrapped around his knees instead. "I went over my whole life a thousand times in there," he pointed out evenly. "I remembered how we used to play together just as often. The times we trained together... I remembered the real you."
"That's why you went to see Ellone?"
Giving a nod at the reluctant question, Squall could guess Seifer's thoughts well enough. Too little, too late. Watching Seifer's body turn in on itself a little more, he felt a stab of regret stronger than any he'd felt before. Uncertain of how to bridge the distance that had grown between them, he wished he could tell Seifer he'd had his doubts all along, that he'd tried to find a way to help him.
When Seifer asked no further questions, he followed the man's gaze out over the waters, their thoughts no doubt traveling similar paths. The more he thought about his past decisions regarding Seifer, the less sense he could make of them. Spending time with the man again these past few days had only served to remind him of the respect that had always been a part of their rivalry, the intensity that had laced their every interaction. Back at Garden, he'd never attempted to analyze his odd bond with Seifer, too entrenched in the fiction of his lone wolf persona. He'd held fast to the belief that no one mattered to him, and thus he couldn't possibly matter to anyone else in return. It had been a preferable, safe status quo.
D-District had rid him of such a childish belief and had taught him a pitiless lesson that he'd spent the rest of the war trying to forget. The day he'd learned he cared about Seifer had also been the day he'd lost him in the most painful way imaginable. Ever since escaping Time Compression he'd avoided recalling the time spent in that dark interrogation room. To try felt like prodding an unhealed wound.
Involuntary tears had slipped from his eyes as shocks of electricity had torn through him for the umpteenth time. Seifer had mocked him for that. He'd lost track of time, his clothes wet with sweat, blood and his own waste. Pain that intense stripped away all dignity, all sense of time. It was only afterwards that he'd learned he'd only been in there for three days. It had seemed far longer. Pain in battle was different from pain in torture. In battle he could fight back, and any pain was brief—he'd either live or die. Torture was death denied. It was a feeble consolation that he hadn't begged. If Seifer had returned to take over from his henchmen one more time, he probably would have.
At first he'd clung to the belief that Seifer wouldn't truly harm him. Amidst the pain he'd even briefly entertained the delusion that the man would reveal himself as a double agent and ally any second. Seifer would turn on his underlings and free him, he'd stop looking at him like that, would stop pretending like he hated him. Finally everything would make sense again. Once that hope had faded, every jolt of electricity had further instilled the heartrending knowledge that he'd been wrong about Seifer. So wrong about himself.
Afterwards he'd recovered from his injuries easily, but not from the shock. Those three days spent in D-District Prison had changed and shaped him into someone capable of anything. Someone capable of hardening their hearts and winning wars.
He'd forced himself to stop thinking about Seifer altogether. In the end, it hadn't been about betrayal or hate. It had been about survival. He'd pushed on, never stopping until the end. If he'd stopped long enough to question the madness of what he was doing, of what had happened to him, then he would've frozen, unable to act at all. His loss, his wounds, would've become all too real and wouldn't have stopped bleeding.
His time stuck in Time Compression had been a rude awakening to reality. No more foes to defeat, no world to save, not even a single person to talk to. At first he'd kept on walking, desperately trying to find a way out, refusing to let all the repressed memories and thoughts take shape in his mind. But there had been no distractions to be found in that dark and empty wasteland. The only thing he'd encountered there had been himself, and he hadn't cared for the confrontation.
Every action that had seemed so necessary at the time had come back to haunt him. Thoughts of Seifer in particular had refused to leave him alone. Inside Time Compression he'd had ages to analyze the war and dissect it from every possible angle. Ages to recall all his memories of the orphanage, of Seifer as the rude but good kid he'd been. For all the times they'd fought and argued, there were also times they'd sat together pouring over weapon magazines, talking about gunblades, and in Seifer's case, vague future plans. Every kind feeling he'd ever felt towards Seifer, every kind thing Seifer had ever done, had come rushing back, piercing through the confusion of the war.
Eventually, after ages of picking apart his life, no new conclusions or insights coming to him, he'd fallen into a catatonic state, his mind inhabiting the least painful memories of his life and clinging to them. Why recall the pain of torture when he could relive the thrill of sparring? When even that strategy had begun to fail him, there had been nothing left to occupy his mind. He'd been empty, utterly and completely. Loneliness itself.
He'd been deeply confused in those first days after he'd been freed. It had been too much at first to process. Rinoa had been the one to shelter him and reintroduce him to the normal world. Slowly, his mind had returned to him.
A sense of directionless and uncertain guilt had been his constant companion since then. He'd gone to see Ellone as soon as he possibly could. Without the memories and insights gained inside Time Compression he would never have done so. He would not have pursued Seifer's side of the story, nor would he have stopped long enough to rethink his mistakes and misconceptions. He would've remained ignorant to the biggest error of his life.
Glancing beside him, Squall was overcome by the improbability of Seifer sitting next to him like this, as they once had as children. So much had gone wrong. So much still could. Seifer's expression was still set in stark lines. He himself still had no acceptable excuses to offer. He only had the unflattering truth.
"I was a fool before Time Compression," he confessed quietly, breaking the oppressive silence that had settled between them. "I would never have realized how meaningless life is without people. I would've made the same mistakes over and over… I wouldn't have ended up here tonight, with you. So I can't regret my time there." He looked at Seifer, meeting the man's gaze. "I wish I could give you something better than that."
Seifer looked away from Squall's searching gaze, over to where he could see the silhouette of the wharf in the distance. Squall's words gave away so much. Yet he still felt a spark of hurt grow. "You didn't have any doubts before then?"
Squall frowned and averted his eyes. "No," he forced himself to say. "During the war… I didn't let myself feel anything at all. I… didn't try to understand the changes in you. I couldn't." Trailing off, he refused to contribute to Seifer's feelings of guilt by blaming D-District for his heartlessness. He wouldn't blame the stresses of war either. The fault was entirely his own.
Silence settled around them again as Seifer tried to come to terms with the truth. He had no idea what to do with this new knowledge. He'd tried to end his life because of what he'd put Squall through. He'd done horrific things and Squall had thought him capable of them all. He lowered his head and kneaded his forehead. He'd been naive to think that Squall saying yes to being his boyfriend would suddenly make things easier between them. They had a bitch of a past and it would take time to work through it. He could tell Squall felt guilty about this, ashamed even. That's why he had been granted so many words on the matter. "That's what you apologized for earlier today, wasn't it? Out in the field?"
Catching Squall's nod out of the corner of his eye, he hated to see the stark lack of expression that had taken over Squall's face, a sure sign of the man's distress. He hated how the past kept rearing its ugly head whenever he thought they'd gotten over the worst of it.
"You always meant a lot to me," he admitted. "I think she knew that. That's why she chose you. No one else from the attack in Deling went through the same."
A chill went down Squall's back at Seifer's words. They shed a terrible new light on the events that had scarred them both. Had she foreseen exactly how little it would take to break their complicated bond and keep them from joining forces? Had she known his blindness and used it against them? Against Seifer? She'd had access to Edea's memories of them as children, most likely Seifer's memories too… She would've known much of what they hadn't yet remembered themselves. Heart sinking at something so malicious, he knew he had nowhere to direct his anger but at himself.
"Maybe she sensed the same in me," he said quietly, feeling traitorous for even speaking the words. Seifer would no doubt find them hypocritical, but when he thought about it, she couldn't have chosen a better torturer. Seifer had been the closest thing he'd had to a friend. Someone he'd grown close to without even realizing it.
"Maybe," Seifer echoed weakly, unable to take much heart from Squall's words. That he might have mattered to Squall was meaningless in the face of just what Squall had thought him capable of. It cut deeply; an entirely different kind of hurt than anything he'd felt before. Until Winhill, any pain had been overshadowed by remorse and guilt. But this… Squall never having questioned the changes in him until he'd been absolutely forced to… And then only because he'd been trapped in an unnatural hellhole of a prison…
He brought up a hand to knead at his forehead and tried to will the darker thoughts away. When Squall had apologized out in the meadow that morning, he'd had no idea how much had still been lurking beneath the surface. Less than a few hours ago, he'd been so quick to forgive when he'd sensed Squall had needed it. He was only now beginning to understand why Squall had refused.
The words to absolve Squall would no longer form on his lips. He had no fucking idea what to say, nothing coming to him that wouldn't rip apart what they'd so carefully stitched back together.
Squall's throat closed up as the tension and distance between them refused to give way. Somehow the enduring silence was far more terrible than facing down Seifer's anger. At least he knew how to stay strong in the face of threats and insults, but he was absolutely powerless when faced with Seifer's sorrow. The cowardly part of him almost wished for a violent confrontation like that morning; the eruption of a fight followed by rough make-up sex. Something physical. Something he could understand. But in the end there were no shortcuts for something like this. No quick fixes.
This painful silence was a necessary evil. It meant Seifer was finally realizing the full extent of his failure, and the man was under no obligation to deal with it in a way that accommodated him or made him feel better about it. That burden rested on him.
"Should I go?" he forced himself to speak, leaving it up to Seifer how to interpret that offer.
"No," Seifer said immediately, the mere thought of Squall leaving sending cold dread coursing through his veins. At the same time so many conflicting thoughts were racing through his mind, his hope for the future vying with his hurt over the past. "I mean… Shit. I don't know how to forgive you for not questioning the change in me. It's cold. And fucking rough to know that I was enough of a bastard to you back at Garden for you to think that way." He clenched and unclenched his hands, drawing in a long, deep breath. "But it's in the past and that's where it's going to fucking stay. It's our turn to get what we want. Not hers."
Squall went very still at the contradictory declaration. The harsh condemnation wrenched his heart, making it near impossible to stay put as Seifer had demanded. Part of him hadn't expected to be allowed to remain by Seifer's side once the man finally accepted the truth. He didn't see how stubborn bravado would be enough to defy their past. Just wanting something didn't make it so. Blind hope alone wasn't enough.
The beauty of the night turned sour, the wind that tugged at his hair and jacket suddenly harsh, but he quickly pushed down the troubled emotions that Seifer's words had unleashed.
"You were no more of a bastard than I was," he finally brought himself to say, refusing to punish Seifer for his honesty or to burden the man with his own distress.
Seifer huffed at the solemnly spoken words that offered no consolation. Was that the key lesson here? They'd both been assholes, too blind to see what had been right in front of them? If only they had realized what they could have meant to each other. They would've fought side by side. They would have kept each other safe.
Only they hadn't.
Without the war, Squall wouldn't have made it past his icicle stage of development and he himself would still be an arrogant delinquent, picking fights wherever he went. They simply wouldn't be here together, sitting next to each other, just as Squall had said. The thought that it had taken sheer fucking misery to bring them together was a hard truth to accept.
Letting out a sigh, he looked at the man beside him. Squall's gaze was firmly locked on the horizon, a somber air about the man. But despite everything Squall was still here. Ever since they'd stumbled into each other again, the man had done everything in his power to rid Seifer of his guilt while only adding to his own. That simple fact dulled some of the sharpness of his hurt.
"You could never be a bastard, Squall." While the man was cold and aloof at times, he didn't have a single malicious bone in his body. "And you were right… At least we're here now. The rest doesn't matter."
Glancing beside him, Squall swallowed thickly. Had he sounded just as unpersuasive when he'd said those same words to Seifer on top of that skyscraper? Had Seifer been just as desperate to believe them as he was now? Of course all of it mattered. How could it not? Even so, Seifer was still willing to move forward and he couldn't bring himself to question that. It was more than he deserved.
Perhaps there was grace in simply accepting his guilt and bearing it for Seifer's sake. He tried to convince himself he didn't need forgiveness; that he was okay as long as Seifer was okay. Frail promises were the only thing that kept things together now, so he refused to be the one to tip the scales against them. This would have to be enough.
Whatever this would turn out to be.
Suddenly feeling beyond exhausted, he was tired of the distance between them. So tired of all the doubt. So tired of not knowing where they stood. He couldn't leave, but he couldn't draw closer either. The strain between them was too heavy to allow for any of that. So he remained seated, staring at the lake without really seeing any of it. The arm's length they'd kept from each other might as well have been miles.
Stealing another glance at Squall, the man still not having said a single thing in reply to his peace offering, Seifer released the tight lock his arms had formed around his legs and tried to loosen up the rigid tension in his shoulders. He couldn't let their evening end like this.
"Fuck, Squall. This wasn't my intention for bringing you up here," he started with a shake of the head. "I wanted to do something nice. I thought you'd enjoy this," he added, nodding toward the lake. "But… you were right back in Winhill. We need to talk about our shit. And I just… I can't help wanting to know more about you. About us. Our childhood. However fucked up our past is, there's gotta be good stuff there too." When Squall didn't say anything, didn't even look at him, he felt a stab of regret at being back to needing to prompt even the most basic of replies. "Right?"
Squall let out a tightly held breath, unable to withstand Seifer's immovable gaze or the unusually tentative tone to his voice. Looking the man's way, he felt his heart tug in his chest despite himself and suppressed a sigh. He had little desire for more conversation about the past.
"What are you asking?" he said, unable to reply with the affirmative Seifer no doubt wanted to hear.
"Tell me about a memory. Doesn't have to be your favorite. Just a good one. Of us. As kids."
Squall frowned at the straightforward request, unsure of what to say. "We lived in an orphanage after a war," he stated soberly. "A lot of kids. Few resources." A past like that didn't exactly lend itself to many heartwarming tales.
"We also lived in a mercenary school. Doesn't mean I don't have good memories of Garden."
Hearing the truth in Seifer's reply, Squall fixed his gaze back out on the lake. He wasn't surprised the view and the company had sparked Seifer's memories of the orphanage. Of their past. He felt it as well. "…There were good days," he admitted, the same melancholy washing over him as it always did when his thoughts touched on them. He'd tried to remember exactly the same kind of thing during Time Compression, so he could understand Seifer's need. It didn't feel right however to color Seifer's understanding of the past with his own interpretations. "You should try to remember for yourself."
Seifer furrowed his brow. "And spend ages before getting to a good memory? I only get glimpses, and short ones at that." Whenever he tried thinking about the past, those brief disconnected moments were all he'd see. And there was still so much he didn't want to see.
Squall didn't know what to say without disappointing. Recalling one memory usually led to the resurfacing of other snippets of the past, like a chain reaction that could lead them anywhere. Even if he told Seifer something harmless, he'd have no control of what it might trigger.
"I just want to focus on something good for a change. Don't you need that too?"
Nice as it sounded, Squall wasn't sure they were capable of something like that, not when it concerned their past. Even so, it was clear by now that Seifer wasn't going to let this go, the man stubbornly trying to salvage the evening instead of just allowing them to nurse their bruised feelings in silence.
Squall frowned as he contemplated the minefield of their shared memories. His tired brain failed to come up with a candidate for a 'good memory' of the kind that Seifer might expect. There had been no trips to amusement parks, nor any lavish birthday parties. An unsubsidized orphanage with a surplus of orphans had led to the far more humble reality of eternal hand-me-downs, crowded sleeping halls and just enough food on the table, despite Matron's best efforts.
Any fun they'd had back then, they'd made for themselves. Or at least, the other kids had. Squall had always been more of a silent spectator at the periphery of games that had never quite involved him. The beach had sufficed most days to keep the orphanage's children content, but he himself had quickly grown bored with the rules and the grounds they were never allowed to leave.
Seifer too had chafed at their limitations, but unlike Squall, the boy's courage and imagination had easily risen to the challenge of dreary orphanage life. And for some reason he still didn't understand to this day, Seifer had insisted on involving him in a lot of it. One night in particular floated to the surface of his memories, causing his heart to clench at the long forgotten innocence of those days.
"You've got something," Seifer interrupted his train of thought, scarily observant. "Tell me."
Delaying an immediate reply, Squall met Seifer's gaze uncertainly. Ever since escaping Time Compression, he'd never let himself linger on those memories. To do so had meant to invite certain pain. He knew things were different now, but the reflex still remained. "There were cliffs near the beach," he began, not even all that sure why he was indulging Seifer in the first place. Little good could come of it, but his thoughts and words traveled back in time all the same.
"We weren't supposed to go near them, but you always did anyway," he continued, looking away as he spoke. "You found a cave in the cliffside. It was high up, only climbable during low tide." He still remembered the day when Seifer had excitedly burst into their shared room, telling him about his amazing find. The very next day he'd been involuntarily drafted into a grand cave expedition, only for the rising tides to have halted their ill-timed adventure. They'd waited a whole week for another chance to sneak away, but that had only heightened their anticipation. "Pirate cave. Dragon nest. Bandit lair. That cave was whatever you wanted it to be. You usually needed a foe for your games. I suppose that's why you dragged me along."
A soft smile grew on Seifer's lips as he imagined the two of them as little boys, sneaking off and exploring, no doubt causing mayhem. Just like they had at Garden. It was comforting to know that this dynamic between them had always been there, even if he had most likely always been the one to lead Squall astray. "Never could leave you alone, huh? Always had to get you into trouble."
"I always let you," Squall confessed, answering Seifer's widening smile with a brief quirk to his own lips. His life would've been a lot more boring without Seifer in it. "I got you into trouble too," he added, nodding at Seifer's lower left arm, where he knew a faded scar ran along its length.
"You mean this beauty?" Seifer asked as he pulled up his sleeve and looked at the scar that ran in a ragged semicircle from his elbow to wrist. It was the very same scar Squall had pointed out to him when the man had first told him about their shared past.
Nodding, Squall could still remember the dizzy rush of fright he'd felt at seeing the nasty injury. And the relief. "We got into a stupid fight one day. In the cave," he recounted, his eyes lingering on the well healed scar. Seifer had been adamant that he play a princess instead of the usual villain, forbidding him to partake in any play fights and banishing him instead to an imagined cage that Seifer would then heroically save him from. He'd bristled at such an unfair deal. "I pushed you without looking. You fell off the edge of the entrance. Down onto the rocks."
Wincing, Seifer couldn't help but grin even wider. He knew Squall would never have done something like that on purpose. At least it meant things between them had been a two-way street, and not just him dealing out the punches. "Just how far was the fall?"
"Fifteen feet, give or take," Squall replied, though it had seemed much higher to him as a child. "You got lucky."
"Ouch," Seifer said, trying to imagine it. "What did we fight about?"
"You wanted me to play the princess. I refused," Squall replied with a shrug, wondering if all the fights they'd had throughout their lives had been just as foolish in hindsight. He'd been so angry at the time.
Seifer chuckled lowly. "Fight back and get stuck with a nickname for the rest of your life," he ventured with a curl to the corner of his lips. "Gotta hand it to me, I never do things by halves."
Snorting, Squall knew he only had himself to blame for reacting poorly to the mocking pet name, inviting Seifer to repeat the successful strategy for angering him. That evening by the cliffs had meant the world to him. Whenever Seifer had called him 'princess' to provoke him after that, it had felt as if the boy was purposefully cheapening the connection they'd made that night. Even when the GFs had long caused him to forget all about it, the anger had still come reflexively each time Seifer had wielded that nickname.
That night had been so much more than just fodder for jokes. So much more than their usual fights and arguments and he wanted Seifer to realize that. Now as much as then.
"I was sure I'd killed you," he said softly, recalling the sick dread that had sunk into his stomach as he'd scrambled back from the edge of the cave entrance. One second Seifer had been there, and then the next gone. Because of him. "I froze. Couldn't move. You climbed all the way back up for me. With that injury." He glanced at Seifer's bared arm, the memory still so vivid. He'd never seen so much blood in his life, but the older boy had barely flinched, putting on a brave front despite his pale face and the steady dripping of blood. "You weren't angry, just helped me down. You got us back home, to our room."
"Our room?" Seifer asked, that new detail sending his imagination spinning.
Squall nodded, conflicted about having to confirm something that was so integral to who they'd been. "Only for the last two years we were there," he explained, glancing Seifer's way. "We were the last two kids of our age group. The oldest ones there." Everyone else had long since been adopted or fostered off, except for them. "You got tired of our sleeping hall, of the younger kids. You complained until we got a room of our own."
Letting all the details sink in, Seifer was struck by how much just this tiny amount of knowledge changed his understanding of the past. He hadn't known what to expect, but he hadn't imagined this. They must've forged a deep bond going off into caves together, breaking the rules, sharing a room. It even sounded like they'd looked out for each other. "We were close then?"
Close. Squall considered the description. Whether applied to their time at the orphanage or at Garden, it seemed true enough. Truer than labels such as 'friend' or 'rival'. They'd been forced into each other's orbit through circumstance, their days filled with each other, for better and for worse. Even after the war, he'd never been able to break free of his memories of Seifer.
"We were," he finally replied, recalling all the ways Seifer had made the orphanage survivable for him. The boy had been an expert at disguising kind acts as happenstance, but it had made all the difference.
Seifer's curiosity turned into a burning wish to remember upon Squall's confirmation. It seemed so surreal, yet so fitting. He tried hard to focus on remembering, but all he could see was that poor kid crying his eyes out in the rain. "I can't remember any of it," he said, some of his frustration slipping into his words. "What was the good memory then? Of the cave?"
Furrowing his brow, Squall met Seifer's enquiring gaze. "I just told you."
Seifer smiled and asked with an arched eyebrow, "Your good memory from our childhood includes me falling off the side of a cliff?"
Feeling self-conscious when Seifer put it like that, Squall didn't know how to explain without giving away too much of himself. That night he'd finally stopped feeling alone after Ellone's disappearance, but while Seifer had become a crucial necessity to him, he'd never been quite sure if the reverse had been true.
Somehow, like magic from the stories, the older boy had managed to take the safety he usually felt in their shared room and had wrapped it all around him on the scariest night of his life. It was then that he'd realized the room was just a room. It was Seifer who'd made it a sanctuary.
"You promised we'd stick together," he said quietly, unable to qualify the impact it'd had on him with mere words. "That if they took our room as punishment, we'd run away together." Nobody had ever liked him or chosen him over anything else before. Even at that young age he'd already accepted that people left him for all sorts of reasons, or sometimes no reason at all. But he'd believed Seifer. That the older boy wouldn't abandon him.
Seifer's heart squeezed tightly in his chest as he realized just what Squall was saying. How much he'd mattered to the man, both then and now. And he'd never even realized, or at least he'd forgotten along the way. Maybe it had been the same for Squall, the onset of their GF usage erasing their memories of each other and their connection. Or maybe it had happened earlier. Maybe the divide between them had grown when they'd first arrived at Garden.
He didn't have it in him to ask, no longer wanting to focus on what had torn them apart. Instead he focused on Squall's words and how they bared the man completely. Squall hadn't been able to look his way. His voice had barely been audible. Squall had known exactly how much of himself he would expose by saying those things, yet he'd done so anyway. Just like earlier when they'd talked about Time Compression.
Pushing up from the cold ground, he crossed the small distance he'd put between them. Grey-blue eyes followed him, questioning him, but at least they were looking at him again. He didn't say anything as he lowered himself to sit right behind Squall, placing his legs on either side of him. Squall was tense against him, the man's spine rigid. Undeterred, he wrapped his arms around Squall, closed his eyes and breathed deeply as he pressed his cheek to brown locks. "We're sticking together this time."
A thickness settled in Squall's throat as he felt Seifer's body heat envelop him, seeping into him until it suffused him entirely. The man's words kept echoing in his mind. To his relief and trepidation, Seifer had puzzled together his meaning exactly from what little he'd said. He hadn't meant to coerce the man into making any more promises, but Hyne, he'd needed this one.
Letting himself accept the offer, he leaned back in Seifer's hold. The fell wind still tugged at them, but it couldn't reach him anymore, sheltered as he was. In the end, it seemed he didn't need much. This was enough. He could handle whatever Seifer threw at him, as long as they'd honor the first promise they'd ever made.
Tightening his embrace around Squall, Seifer looked out over the dancing lights on the lake. However rough hearing the truth was, this thing between them felt more real now than ever. Even if he still felt like a blind man fumbling in the dark because of this gaping hole in his memory. Squall had relived all the emotions and knew of all the ties that bound them together. Seifer swore to himself that he'd do everything in his power to remember now too. No more running away. He'd take the bad with the good. He wanted to know. Wanted to remember the memory that meant so much to Squall, along with all the other ones he knew Squall would never have the patience or words to tell him about.
He wanted to see how they'd interacted as kids. How things had changed when they'd become teenagers. At what point they'd drifted apart. And why. He could finally understand Squall's need to know. It also had to be strangely lonely for Squall to be the only one with all the memories, knowing that they would've been lost forever if Squall hadn't recovered them. Seifer's mind was still reeling at the few facts he'd learned of.
They'd been together since they were kids. They'd been close. No wonder he felt a kind of belonging with Squall he'd never felt with anyone else. And apparently Squall had always felt something similar as well. That was why they were sitting here, together. Not because of war or misery. Not because of the sick games of a demented sorceress. What they had was stronger than any of that.
He wasn't going to let go of this feeling. Resonating with so many of the thoughts he'd had since Squall had come back into his life, what he wanted most of all was to make Squall happy. He'd taken a shot at it tonight and had failed miserably. Yet he had to believe they were stronger for it. That talking things through had made a difference. That they could begin to move on now, with somewhat mended wounds and so many things to look forward to.
He smiled into Squall's soft hair, then brought up a hand to steer the man's chin just close enough for him to capture pliant lips. It felt like coming home when their lips sought and found each other, his arms tightening even further.
Melting into Seifer's embrace, Squall felt like he was sinking away, his thoughts scattering until nothing mattered but Seifer's mouth taking complete possession of him. The kiss was charged with a bittersweet longing that reached all the way back to his childish need for the older boy's company. Those days had been the last time anyone had ever protected him from the harsh realities of life. To feel a glimpse of that again now… It shook him. Scared him. He'd believed he was long past needing anything like this. His independence was all he had.
There was no undoing this. His old self was being dismantled with every nip and caress of Seifer's lips. He gave up on trying to process the wild turmoil of his thoughts. Seifer's hold on him was satisfyingly tight, his own hands layered on top of the man's arms, encouraging the embrace. His heart pounded against his ribs, beating out the truth of his feelings.
Time swept by as Seifer was lost to the simple movements of their lips. To feel Squall pressed so tightly against him, holding onto him like that, kissing him back so eagerly... It filled him with a deep want for more, for all of Squall laid out before him, naked and writhing in pleasure. The beginnings of arousal starting to cloud his mind, he tried to pull back, only for Squall to chase his retreat with another kiss. Placing a firm nip at the man's bottom lip, he whispered hotly, "Let's head back."
Like a powerful invocation, the low rumble of Seifer's voice rushed along Squall's skin, raising goose pimples all the way down his neck and back, leaving no doubt as to the man's intentions. Entirely in agreement, he demanded a final kiss before pushing up from between Seifer's legs.
Casting one last look towards the myriad of dotted lights on the lake, Squall waited for Seifer to come to a stand behind him. The memory of this place would be forever linked with the feelings Seifer had stirred in him tonight, both good and bad. Turning away from the view after a moment's pause, he located the narrow trail that had led them up here, his eyes well-adjusted to the dark by now. Seifer followed, making no move to take the lead.
Silence accompanied them as they walked down the rocky hill, something lingering in the air between them, humming, brimming and keenly felt even when they didn't speak a word. He could still feel the press of Seifer's lips, those arms drawing him into safety. Pebbles slipped beneath their feet just as they had on their way up, the sound of the wind and the scent of the lake exactly the same as before, yet everything felt changed. He felt changed. He'd been too honest. Too vulnerable. But even so, all he wanted was for Seifer to lay him down in bed, miring him even further in this tangled web of theirs.
As they made their way back up the stairs to the quayside, the bright streetlights broke some of the spell, but not entirely. They glanced at one another, a small smile curling Seifer's lips. He didn't want to know just how naked his own expression was. They walked side by side, close enough for him to feel Seifer's body heat brush against his arm.
They didn't encounter a soul as they retraced their steps back into town. The windows of the houses they passed had turned dark, most reputable establishments shuttered and closed. Only a handful of the most hardy pubs were still open, but they emitted none of their earlier ruckus. They'd stayed out on that hill longer than he'd realized.
The day's events were catching up with him, as well as his own choices, which under normal circumstances would mean no sleep for him whatsoever, but Winhill had shown him that Seifer had the uncanny ability to lull his ever churning mind to rest, be it out in a grassy field or in the room that had once been his nursery. Even more vulnerability.
But for every inch Seifer had taken from him, the man had given something in return. With every layer of pretense and lifelong self-protective habits stripped back, something new had been revealed, until suddenly it felt good to let himself look forward to something as simple as falling asleep in another's embrace. And so he didn't shy away when Seifer's fingers brushed against his, briefly, a flutter of a touch. He didn't panic when his heart beat a little faster in response. He didn't attempt to stomp out the wealth of feeling that welled up in him.
They made it back to the inn without any detours or words between them. The tavern on the ground floor was dark when they passed it, the fire in the hearth banked down to a soft glow. Seifer led the way, key in hand, as they climbed the creaking stairs to their room for the night. When Seifer stopped to unlock one of the doors, he felt his exhaustion deepen, in that odd way that happened before finally reaching safe haven.
Stepping inside after the man, he gave the room a cursory glance. His gunblade case and gear sat neatly on a table, and the bed looked serviceable enough. He didn't care about any other amenities. Turning around at the sound of the key turning in its lock again, he didn't need to wait long before Seifer pulled him close and kissed him.
Drawing Squall's tongue in deeper, coaxing and twining with his own, Seifer guided them straight towards the bed. He couldn't get enough of the feel of Squall's smaller frame, pressed close to him, fitting together so fucking perfectly. His hands traveled the width of Squall's back, instinctively seeking the touch of warm skin instead of the leather jacket Squall was still wearing. The moment he slid his palms to Squall's shoulders, the man guessed his intention and let him take off the jacket. His own fell to the floor seconds later.
Boots and clothes were discarded as they got onto the bed, their movements feeding off of each other seamlessly. Any initial awkwardness or stiltedness that had come with Squall's inexperience was long gone, the man chasing his every initiative readily, not leaving any space between them. When he finally had Squall naked against him, he let his eyes greedily peruse firm muscles and pale skin, his erection growing more rigid at the sight. He hastened off the bed, the distancing move made all the more difficult by the soft sound of complaint that left Squall's reddened lips. He quickly ruffled through his duffel bag until he located the bottle of lube and jumped back onto the bed with a wide smile at finding Squall's impatient gaze locked on him.
Leaning down for another deep kiss, he flipped the cap open and poured some into his hand. Taking hold of Squall's hard erection, he slowly spread the sticky gel along the man's length. A hiss of pleasure interrupted their kiss as he continued the wet stroking. Lowering his hand, he spread some lube around Squall's anus, then pushed two fingers inside. He loved every single one of Squall's panting exclamations as he slowly retracted his fingers only to slide them right back in.
Sinking into the mattress with an arch of his back, Squall moaned plaintively into their kiss when all ministrations stopped after only a few strokes. Thankfully the movement of Seifer's arm, brushing against his stomach, reassured him the man was hurriedly coating his own length, all without ever relinquishing their heated kiss. He was ready when Seifer lowered his body flush against his own, his hands moving to Seifer's buttocks to encourage the dizzying slide of Seifer's cock into him. His own erection slipped wetly between the close press of their bodies with each of Seifer's thrusts, aided by the lube Seifer had applied. The new sensation, layered atop the many he'd already come to crave, had him arching against Seifer in search for more.
They moved in tandem, every held breath and gasp providing a map for where to guide their touches, every thrust countered with a roll of hips, their joining a perfect synergy that left him lightheaded and shuddering with pleasure. Seifer knew exactly when to plunge in deep, when to kiss him until he couldn't breathe, when to gentle his touch. And somehow he knew that the moan he'd just let escape had brought Seifer closer to the loss of composure. So very close himself, he wrapped one leg around Seifer's and forced their coupling into the end rush.
Sliding into Squall a few more times, Seifer felt his own ecstasy build as Squall wound taut against him, the man unable to focus on their kiss, those grey-blue eyes wrenched closed and the man's breath held tightly in his lungs. Fresh wetness rushed against his stomach, his own cock burning with pleasure at the tight friction. Breathlessly speaking Squall's name as he moved his lips against the man's cheek, he rode out his own orgasm with stuttering jerks of his hips.
Capturing Squall's lips again with light nips and licks, he smiled softly. Squall looked entirely blissed out, the man's eyes alternating between drifting shut and cracking open again to regard him with a sleepy kind of longing that made his spine tingle. "I'll get a cloth," he said as he slipped out of Squall and rose from the bed.
Unable to stifle the yawn that overtook him, Squall stretched out his legs and arms, settling just in time to watch Seifer emerge from the en-suite with a small guest towel in hand. He fought his drowsiness to watch Seifer approach the bed, allowing himself the simple joy of studying the man's form. The lopsided smirk and the hint of swagger that entered Seifer's gait upon noticing his gaze suited the blond to a T.
The bed dipped as Seifer sat down beside him and leaned in for another kiss that quickly devolved into a lazy sharing of tongues and lips. He didn't protest when Seifer slowly ran the wetted guest towel along his length, over his stomach, and down between his thighs. Nor when Seifer sidled up close to him after throwing the cloth to the floor.
Inhaling deeply of Squall's scent, Seifer proceeded to make himself as comfortable as possible. Chin resting against Squall's shoulder, he lay his arm across Squall's midriff, his entire body pressed close. His thumb stroked lazily against Squall's side while he felt Squall's chest slowly rise and fall beneath his arm. It didn't take long before Squall's breathing evened out, the man drifting off to sleep.
Filled with fondness, Seifer enjoyed every bit of intimacy between them. Squall's implicit trust in him. He would never have thought it possible, but apparently that morning hadn't been a fluke after all. Letting his gaze drift over the man's features, he was still in awe of being allowed to see this side to the private man. No mask or defenses. No pretense. He'd be damned if he didn't treasure every single moment of this.
He didn't say or do anything to pull Squall back from sleep, didn't try to prolong the evening with more talk, no matter how tempted he was. He knew Squall needed this, that the man was beyond exhausted. His own tiredness was creeping up on him, but despite the calmness that had descended over him the moment he'd gathered Squall close to him on the hilltop, his mind was still buzzing. So many new things had come to light, filling him with a need to remember more. Much more.
Focusing on the brief glimpses he'd recalled from the lighthouse earlier, of the two of them sitting next to each other, he tried to bring those images to mind again. He was certain it had been triggered by the similarity of the situation. Them perched up high, overlooking a body of water. But no matter how hard he tried, those brief snippets failed to become any clearer. The more he chased them, the more they seemed to slip away. He sighed, then pressed his lips to Squall's shoulder. He would remember eventually, just like Squall had, but until the memories unfurled in his mind he would have to make an effort to remember and not just avoid thinking about his past like he had so far. Maybe once they were back in Esthar he'd ask Squall if he could see those photos Quistis had mentioned. Maybe those would somehow kickstart things.
He concentrated as hard as he could on the scar that ran along his left lower arm, hoping to see more of that particular memory but nothing came to him. No images or flashes from his past. No remembered pain or images of rock faces or caves. No Squall. His frustration grew even further.
Other frustrations bubbled to the surface as well. The hurt that had been exposed. Whatever his aim had been for bringing Squall up onto that hill, he hadn't been able to stop himself when Squall had actually allowed and indulged his questions. Squall had finally let him catch a glimpse of what the war had been like for the man. He knew now what Squall had thought of him going rogue. Or at least that Squall had thought everything he'd done plausible.
He hadn't expected such a deep wound to emerge after such a long time, but in light of just how much Squall meant to him both now and in the past, it wasn't all that surprising. That small inner voice that told him that Squall should have known, should have been there for him just like Fujin and Raijin had, became louder. But he couldn't blame Squall. Not when he'd been so confused himself. If he hadn't been able to tell what had been her, then how could he expect more of Squall? The change had been incremental. She'd slowly twisted him, made it look as if he was gradually losing control, each horrible thing she'd made him do just that bit worse than the last. Still… The moment he'd sent electricity coursing through Squall... How could Squall not have questioned it truly being him?
He took a deep, steadying breath. The past. It was in the past. It had to stay there.
Yet the pain didn't budge. Especially not when imagining Squall trapped and alone, walking through an endless desolate wasteland. His heart ached for Squall. Tightening his hold on the man, he pressed another kiss to the man's shoulder, his lips lingering this time. He'd known to some extent that Squall's life had been rough ever since the war, but his assumptions had only scratched the surface. After surviving said war and torture, the man's reward had been imprisonment in a timeless hell. And after that, a girlfriend he'd clung to but hadn't wanted sexually, simply because of Squall's constant compulsion to do what he thought was right; what was expected of him. What Rinoa wanted. What everyone else wanted. The man never did anything just for himself.
Seifer winced. It had been the same for them. He'd been so caught up in his own thoughts and feelings, his guilt over the war, that he'd completely failed to consider that same pattern emerging between the two of them. After Squall had reentered his life, the man had done so much for him. Squall had brought him along to Odine's, and to see Ellone. Everything just to help him. And in the process the man had bared so much of himself, had even asked if he should leave just that evening. All to ease Seifer's feelings, not his own. His heart twisted in his chest as he realized just why Squall had left Winhill the previous night. It hadn't been because he'd been an utter bastard and had treated Squall like shit. From what he could piece together from Squall's fucking apology that morning and the man's promise to leave if it ever became too much for Seifer… Squall had left for his sake. Sacrificing whatever he'd hoped for between them; the Hynedamned love Seifer could feel and see so clearly now in the man's every action.
No longer. No more of that self-sacrificing bullshit. He wanted to teach Squall how to take what he wanted. He wanted Squall to know that his own needs didn't have to come after everyone else's. He moved his hand from where it had been lying at Squall's side to rest right above Squall's heart.
He, Seifer fucking Almasy, was going to put someone else's needs first for a change. He was going to take all the scars and hurt in Squall and turn them into something good. He'd be the best fucking boyfriend out there. After all, he didn't do things by halves.
~ o ~
A/N: As always, thank you so much to anyone who's still reading! And please check out an amazing piece of fanart created by Chorizo_13 (Carys Leon on Instagram) for chapter 5. Unfortunately we can't link to it on FFN, but there's a direct link on AO3. See you on the next update!