They threaded their fingers together and stared up at the sky.
"How much do you remember?" Seifer asked at last, breaking the silence that had existed between them for most of the day.
"Enough," Squall murmured, not wishing to ruminate on their mutual past, no matter how enamored with it Seifer seemed to be.
The laugh that erupted from Seifer's lips was bitter, and Squall frowned as he let go of their handhold, but Seifer surprised him and wrapped his arm around his waist, pulling him in tight.
"You have a bony chin," Squall complained after a few minutes; Seifer had rest his head above Squall's, and the weight was beginning to bother Squall.
"Shut up, Leonhart," Seifer said good-naturedly, breathing in the scent of the salt air as they sat by a crumbling, dilapidated structure beside a lighthouse, soaking up their childhood and the sun. "I'm enjoying myself," he whispered.