Icicle Knight Firey SeeD
Chapter 16
It all happened by chance, and by the time the moment was over, Seifer couldn't say if he was happy or sorry that it had happened at all.
He'd been in the Cafeteria, getting some coffee to help him stay focused and awake while working on finishing up a contract that was due to be signed the next day. And while he grumbled to anyone and everyone who would listen (and a few who wouldn't) about the rush, he couldn't deny that the longer he stayed up working, the less time he'd have to dream about Squall before it was time to get up in the morning for his morning meeting. It had been a chilly night, even inside Garden's temperature-controlled grounds, and he'd been relishing the steam coming up from his mug when he'd walked right into someone, hot coffee spilling all over the Cafeteria floor and across his coat, most likely staining the fabric. Raising his head to snarl at the one responsible, he looked right into Squall's silver-blue eyes.
The words died on his lips. It had been several months since the duel in the Training Center, and in all that time they hadn't laid eyes on each other once, something that Seifer belatedly found to be incredible, even taking Garden's massive size into account. The tension was still there; nothing had changed in their months apart. Seifer gazed into Squall's eyes and had to fight back the urge to touch, to claim, to taste the brunet's silky smooth skin that had so drawn him during the… incident.
As always when he was discomforted in any way, he lashed out, tried to shift the atmosphere into a situation he could control. "So Leonhart, had enough of whatever hole you were hiding in?" his tone was cutting, his words mocking, his body language insulting. Anything and everything to make sure that… what had happened the last time they had come in contact with each other, didn't happen again.
Squall merely shrugged. For one heart stopping instant, Seifer saw red, could visualize the Cafeteria walls washed in red, red blood. How dare Squall not react! Then common sense prevailed. While he lashed out either verbally or otherwise when uncomfortable, Squall shut down and pretended that it didn't bother him. The lazy smirk reasserted itself, he deliberately relaxed his tense posture, determined to show the same nonchalance as Squall, even if the effort killed him.
From Squall's tiny smirk, a mere subtle twitch of the lips, lips that were much too full for any sort of fairness a distant part of Seifer's mind noticed, his effort at appearing unaffected by the vibrating tension between them, and he knew that the Ice Prince felt it too, was transparently obvious. Stung, Seifer dropped the pretence like an incompatible GF.
Seifer struck out reflexively, having to do something, anything to recover from that moment of lost advantage. "Is something funny, Lionheartless?" the words dropped into the empty space, filling the deserted Cafeteria. For one endless instant after they left his lips, Seifer stupidly wished he could take them back. Then time reasserted itself. Squall tensed, one hand dropping to the hilt of his blade, visibly affected.
And why shouldn't he be? 'Lionheartless' was the one nickname Squall hated with a passion, and more than one of their more violent spats had been provoked by Seifer's use of it. It was the one name that was off-limits, the one that guaranteed a fight when used. By uttering it, Seifer was telling Squall without words that whatever fight that was to come (and there was always a fight after using that name) would be personal, one where any and all ill-feelings would be invoked and used. That was why he rarely used it, only invoking its power when he was seriously pissed off. That the name stung more than ever since the War, what with Lionheart being the name by which Squall called his blue beauty, was only an added bonus when Seifer felt this pissed off.
Abruptly, the tension suffusing the brunet's slight frame vanished, evaporating into thin air. Seifer's scowl began to deepen as the pale hand left the distinctive hilt. What was Squall playing at? Using that nickname should have been nearly enough provocation for a duel, or at least it had proved so in the past. And for all of Squall's reserve, he'd never been a coward, had never been one to back down from a naked challenge. Unless…
The answer hit him with the force of a blow. The duel, what had happened between them in the Training Center, all those months ago. Now he was thinking of it, something he'd finally managed to avoid most of the time, the reason why Squall had backed down became suddenly obvious.
"Finished posturing?" was the brunet's only question when he'd noticed the light of comprehension light Seifer's eyes. "We can't keep doing this."
As much as it hurt Seifer's pride to concede to his rival in anything, Squall was right. They couldn't keep fighting whenever they saw each other, not if they wanted to keep… the incident from happening again. Not to mention, until Cid returned, he was Garden as far as the rest of the world was concerned. If he spent all his energy brawling with Squall, then he'd have none left to counter the machinations of the various clients who thought his relative youth (at least compared to the Old Fart) meant that he was either stupid or weak (which he was not), and that he'd be more amenable to sending SeeDs into suicide missions on their word.
Of all the clients he was forced to make nice with (he'd been forced to unJunction Ifrit for all contract negotiations, or at any time he'd be meeting with clients, no excuses tolerated because he didn't need the GF's fiery nature inflating an already explosive temper), those were the worst. Eager for every excuse to cancel the contract with the fault for the failed offer lying on Garden's responsibility, possibly damaging the possibility of further offers and Garden's reputation, nitpicky over details, slow to come to agreement as to terms of payment, and panting after every rumor and potential slander to strengthen their own position, Seifer made it a point to accept as few of their contracts as possible, but he couldn't avoid them all, not when some of them were Garden's greatest benefactors. Garden needed them to continue running and they knew it, exploiting that fact as often as they thought they could get away with it.
The only good thing about working with such difficult clients; was that he was slowly working on repairing the damage caused by Cid's pushover attitude in accepting contracts. Missions like the one to Timber that had started this whole mess, would have been tossed into the shredder as a matter of course, no matter whom they came from. The sheer madness of sending only three SeeDs, rookies no less, to liberate Timber on their own, with no time limit…if Seifer had needed any more proof that Cid had grown unable to handle his own post, that would have been it. Seifer wouldn't have touched that mission with a ten-foot pole, and would have laughed in Rinoa's face to boot while she'd proposed it.
No more would SeeDs be sent willy-nilly on any and contracts that were presented, in fact, with the loss of Trabia and Galbadia Gardens SeeDs, more and more clients were bringing their contracts to Balamb, resulting in better publicity and more business for Garden, at least until recruitment stepped up to fill and rebuild the once formidable fighting centers once more. Meaning, for the first time in the history of Balamb Garden, he could pick and choose which contracts he decided to accept, given that with the marvelous showing Garden had made during the War, more people than ever were clamoring for contracts, determined that only SeeD assistance would do. And given that Balamb was the only Garden still in operation…lets just say that he had more negotiating power than to merely pick and choose which contracts Garden accepted. A lot more.
Which meant, that not only was he Balamb Garden to the world, he was SeeD, and any mistake or scandal the media or his enemies got a hold of, any slightest hint of weakness, and not only would Balamb Garden suffer, but SeeD as a whole. His status as a hero in the War would help buffer some of direct attacks, but wouldn't protect him in the long run, not from all assaults on his and Garden's reputation. He could only thank Hyne that what had happened in the Training Center wasn't public knowledge, and wasn't likely to be, ever.
He relaxed his own stance. Staring at Squall, he was struck by the thought that he'd never really talked to the brunet. Sure, he knew generally what Squall liked to read, and he'd hauled him bodily out of the Library enough times to know which sections he was most likely to find the Ice Prince in. He had a vague idea about what foods Squall preferred to eat, mostly from the times he'd stood over the brunet, making sure that he choked at least some food down. He knew that Squall talked more to him than to anyone else in Garden, but those occasions were all arguments, all verbal battlefields, one attempting to gain an advantage over the other in some way, shape or form, and he suddenly realized that he didn't want that to be the sole means of communication between them anymore.
Echoing Squall's relaxed stance, and allowing his voice to soften, he extended one hand, open palm extended in friendship. "No," he said, so mildly he scarcely recognized it as his own, "I guess we can't."
/\
Squall eyed the outstretched hand as if it were diseased. Just what was Seifer up to? When he'd deliberately refused to continue the chain of reactions that inevitably led up to a fight, he'd been expecting Seifer to resist, had been prepared for a verbal struggle at the very least until he'd forced Seifer around to the fact that until they'd resolved whatever it was that had made them fall upon each other in the Training Center so that such incidents never happened between them again, they couldn't afford to fight. Not on any level aside from the verbal, and sparingly at that.
He certainly hadn't been expecting Seifer to give in without a fight, capitulating even before he could present his evidence on exactly why a duel between the two of them couldn't happen at this time, and the lack of resistance left him a bit (more than he would admit, at least) unsettled.
He recovered quickly. Nodding in what he hoped was a decisive fashion, he moved past the puzzling blond, granting a shadow of a smile for the Cafeteria lady who had been kind enough to save a plate of food for him. It wasn't until he'd taken his tray and moved to sit down in an isolated corner (not that it meant much at this hour), that he realized that Seifer had followed him, a fresh, steaming mug of coffee in one tanned grip.
Thinking about Seifer, he couldn't help but wonder slightly why the blond had decided to follow him now, though he'd had to have had some reason, otherwise why would the idiot be sitting across from himself at this very moment?
It didn't take long for Squall to consume the simple meal, even with Seifer's gaze watching every move he made. Once he was done, he glared meaningfully at the blond, daring him without words to explain himself.
Seifer merely grinned at his discomfort, sea-green eyes flashing wickedly in the blond's crooked smile. Damn him for ambushing him here, at the one time when it was almost guaranteed that he'd avoid the blond, damn him for looking so perky and alert at this late hour (though that was more than likely due to the coffee than anything else), and damn him for looking as if he hadn't spent the last several months endlessly rehashing their encounter in the Training Center the last time they'd seen each other. And damn him as well for looking so…so…so, handsome, he stumbled to admit to himself.
Looking at Seifer, it wasn't hard to see just why his rival was so popular with Garden's female population (with the notable exception of Quistis, Xu and their cronies), as well as several outsiders like Rinoa. With that golden-blond hair, those sharp sea-green eyes, a smile that could be mocking and dazzling at the same time, it was a wonder that one of the girls in Garden, particularly one of the upper level cadets or lower-ranked SeeDs hadn't snapped him up as a boyfriend long ago. But Seifer was fickle, having fun with one girl only until he tired of her and the next girl caught his eye.
Sometimes, it was hard to believe that the female species hadn't caught on to Seifer's tricks before this. Even when or if his current girl caught wind of his past conquests, he'd simply turn on the charm, promising her that he'd changed, that he'd stay with her forever, that he'd had no judgment when he'd taken up with the other girl…and so on and so forth. It never failed. And like as not, before the month was out, that girl too would be on her way, abruptly found lacking in some incomprehensible, but crucial way.
He refused to think about what Fujin had hinted to him about, before his kidnapping torture, and subsequent rescue. Even if it had been true, and that was a fairly big if, Seifer would have no doubt have moved on by now, the fires of infatuation now fed by a more willing target, someone who could actually appreciate the dubious honor it bestowed. And he was not disappointed that it had moved on. He was not.
Standing, he turned in his trey, giving the waiting Cafeteria lady a polite nod as she collected his things. Turning to go, he saw that Seifer hadn't moved, his enigmatic sea-green gaze still fixed on Squall, one thoughtful hand supporting that glorious blond hair. Squall's fingers recalled how smooth it had felt under his fingers, the short blond spikes feeling velvet soft under his callused hands. His hands itched to stroke it again. He locked them in place behind his back until the feeling was under control once more.
The standoff continued, Squall growing more and more uncomfortable under Seifer's unblinking regard. If his own stare was half as unnerving as Seifer's, Squall felt a new pity for those who had been the target of said stare in the past, well, for most of them. Some, like the jackass in front of him, had actually deserved it, at least most of the time, and thus he wasn't obligated to offer any pity in the slightest even if Seifer would accept it, which Squall knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wouldn't. It was one of his few certainties by which he could use to understand and predict Seifer's behavior.
Predictably, Seifer was the first one to break the silence. "Quiet place. Hard to imagine that just a few hours ago it was packed with people." he said, jerking his head at the empty cafeteria
Squall tried to resist rolling his eyes at the inane comment. Only Seifer would open a conversation that way. All right, if that was how the blond wanted to play it, he could respond in kind.
"I prefer it this way. Less chance of annoying assholes spitting in my food." Was his quiet response, referencing something that had happened during their third year at Garden when Seifer had indeed spat in his food during a spat, one that had escalated into a major food fight involving the entire Cafeteria.
Seifer only grinned at the memory. "So you're avoiding me? I'm touched Leonhart, truly I am." Where in Shiva's realm did Seifer make those abstract mental jumps, the ones that left logical thought gasping in the dust, leaving other people unused to the way he thought blinking in surprise.
Fortunately, Squall was. "Touched in the head, if anything." he muttered, warily. He didn't know what Seifer was up to, not after almost provoking him to a duel and now acting as if they were best buddies. Seifer only grinned wider, acknowledging the point. Squall distrusted it.
The silence stretched again, vibrating with unspoken tension that neither wanted to give voice to. Squall was the one to break the silence this time.
"What do you want from me?" he abruptly burst out, startling both Seifer and himself with his outburst. He didn't care about the possibility of witnesses, the Cafeteria was nearly completely deserted and none of the staff finishing the cleanup were in this distant corner of the vast room. For all intents and purposes he and Seifer were alone, which was how he preferred their encounters. He plowed on.
"You told me during Time Compression that you wanted me to come back, that we could fix things so that things could go back to normal between us." And if that wasn't exactly what Seifer had said, that was what Squall had understood at that time. "Then you got cagy and silent for some reason, we fought to make me go back to Garden and you to talk, instead you kissed me. Then you avoid me for nearly three straight months, when time was I had to search out every hidden corner in Garden just to get you to leave me alone. We have one fairly normal conversation-"
"You mean argument, and I hardly think it was a normal topic," Seifer broke in lazily. Squall's glare fixed him with sub-zero intensity; Seifer held up a hand in surrender and subsided.
"May I go on?" condescension fairly dripped from Squall's voice. Taking Seifer's silence for assent, he continued. "We had one fairly typical encounter, no matter what the topic may have been about, before the kidnapping, and then afterward, you kept wrapping me in cotton wool, keeping watch on me as I got myself back into fighting shape. I could have been ready sooner if you hadn't been babying me!"
Seifer did take exception to that accusation. "Hardly. I kept watch on you to make sure you didn't get yourself killed from making a stupid mistake while exhausted. Or would you have preferred to get gaping holes torn in you by pushing yourself too hard? You and I both know that if you push yourself too hard too fast during recovery, you end up worse than when you started out."
Squall was in no mood to hear it. Confusion, uncertainty, and several other emotions he dared not even begin to name roiled within him, until he nearly lashed out, only refraining due to a stern check on his reflexes. He barely saw Seifer start to make a move, than freeze, as if uncertain. He didn't spare the energy to try and identify what the abortive motion had been, merely buried his face in his palms, abandoning the rest of his rant, trying to block out the world.
A hand landed on his shoulder, hesitant and sure, all at once. Almost without thinking, something in Squall relaxed at the touch, went limp, as if the touch was a perfectly natural thing, something he had always known, even if he'd never experienced it before. Then his mind caught up to his body and he shrugged it off, determinedly not missing the heat of another's hand on his, the acknowledgement that he was (for one moment at least) not alone. He preferred to be alone, didn't he? It would hurt less to get rid of touch on his own accord than to have it taken away, wouldn't it? He wasn't sure anymore, he wasn't sure of anything. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring at Seifer's sea-green ones, jewel-dark orbs filled with some emotion he recognized, but was hesitant to name.
Suddenly furious with his own confusion, and Seifer's lack of a clear response, he turned and fled the Cafeteria, barely hearing Seifer's shouted remark about seeing him again this time tomorrow night, too frazzled to think. When he reached the open air of the Quad, he sank down onto a bench, letting the cool night air calm him down. By the time he could think clearly again, he let his head sink into his hands in mortification. Shiva help him. Seifer wanted to get to know him better and was willing to actually talk to him. What in the name of Shiva's Ice was he supposed to do?
/\
For a long moment after Squall had left, Seifer was left gaping like an idiot after him. Then he shook himself all over, breaking the spell that had left him dumbstruck. He was Seifer Almasy, Commander of Balamb Garden, one of the major powers in the world, and he would not be caught mooning over Squall Leonhart of all people like…like…Rinoa or some other empty-headed teenage civilian girl. Abandoning his half-drunk coffee, he strode to his office thinking to bury his whirling thoughts in his waiting paperwork. He no longer needed the caffeine to keep him awake. The tempestuous thoughts and emotions stirred by Squall's words and stormy exit, would keep him awake, at least he hoped that would be the case.
By the next morning, even though he'd only gotten 3 hours of sleep total the night before, he was in a better mood than he'd been in ages, joking with Fujin when she brought him some "urgent" paperwork to keep him busy until the client arrived. He ignored her startled look (well, as startled as Fujin could look anyway), cheerfully handing her the finished contract for a final look over. Let her wonder. It would do her good to have a mystery to sink her teeth into, and it would keep her nose out of his business for the most part. While Fujin poked around trying to find what had caused his unusual mood after a night of (nearly) solid paperwork (at least as far as she knew), he would quietly restructure his daily routine until it included a chat with the Ice Prince every night, at least.
He grinned broadly at the thought, so entertained by Squall's imagined look of shock at seeing him again in what had obviously been his sanctuary, that even the thought of questioning the night Cafeteria staff to determine the best time to approach Squall, or the arrival of the client (one of the more pompous ones that never failed to get Seifer's back up) failed to dim it.
As he exchanged opening pleasantries with the waste of skin who'd just walked into his office, a corner of his mind was already rehearsing ways to talk to the brunet, finding ways to get under Squall's skin and make him talk about himself, without provoking the Ice Prince into a rage.
At the very least, it looked to offer more of a challenge than straight out verbal sparring. He'd always been up for a challenge, even if had been self-imposed. He would see just how long the Ice Prince could hold out before that protective icy shield of his began to melt from sheer exposure. His grin was just a tiny bit feral at the thought, unconsciously discomforting the idiot across the desk from him, causing sweat to bead on the fat brow.
The Ice Prince would never stand a chance.
//\\
For nearly two months straight, Seifer turned up every single time Squall got something to eat, no matter how he tried to vary the arrival times, be it early in the afternoon, or late at night. After the fifth time Seifer turned up un-looked for, Squall determined that somehow Seifer had bribed or otherwise cornered the Cafeteria staff into divulging when he came in for food. Even if he called for a trey to be sent elsewhere, Seifer would appear shortly afterward, until he stopped trying to avoid the blond, finally settling into a schedule that allowed him to control the atmosphere of the chat that the blond inevitably tried to engage him in.
Though, exactly why Seifer was interested in the minute details of his life, Squall couldn't fathom in the least. Before the War, he would had assumed that the blond was trying to 'subtly' (in Seifer's estimation, not his own) gather some obscure blackmail material to lord over his head at awkward moments, and would have reflexively clammed up sent the nosy blond on his way. Now… he wasn't sure what Seifer was after, but somehow he knew it wasn't blackmail. Not that he could say exactly how he knew that, but he did.
Never liking mysteries in the first place (unless he organized them that is), this particular one gave him fits, given that every clue he uncovered only made the final picture more confusing and complicated. Every time he thought he was finally starting to get a handle on it, things twisted, and he honestly didn't even know if he wanted to see the end result, wasn't sure he wanted t make things clear anymore, but it wasn't as if he had a choice in the matter. Seifer was continuing to place himself in Squall's personal space and giving him material to try and fit it into the missing pieces that he held, trying almost against his will to assemble the final shape presented. It was frustrating work, particularly when Seifer, for some weird reason, actually forgot to be the ass Squall knew he was during the majority of these little mealtime 'chats'.
There never seemed to be a set plan for one of these mealtime encounters. It varied every single time save for the fact that Seifer would always show up, usually when Squall was about half-way finished with his food (he always ate fast, ill-at-ease in public areas such as the Cafeteria), and try to engage him in conversation, nattering on about whatever came into his moronic skull when Squall refused to respond.
Recently however, he'd begun speaking up, if only to correct the idiot about some obscure point in the mysteries of a two-handed grip and the advantages and disadvantages of such a grip when it came to various types of weapons, versus using only a single hand. Given that Hyperion only had room for a single hand on its hilt, Seifer was obviously ignorant of even the basics for using two hands, the blond's only knowledge coming from observing himself and Raijin. And thus had a very limited understanding of all that could be accomplished by using a second hand. That conversation had been cut short by Fujin searching out her obviously very tardy leader for something, both of them so absorbed in their debate that not even Squall with his sensitivity toward the distinctive feel of a Sorceress's magic, noticed her approach.
Strangely, after Fujin had literally dragged Seifer out of the Cafeteria by his ear, the blond protesting loudly the entire way, Squall couldn't find it in himself to object to the experience. Sure, Seifer dogging his steps constantly was annoying, but Squall couldn't recall any other time when he'd had such a satisfying debate with the blond about anything that didn't end with blood in any way, shape, or form. No heated words, no war of implication and innuendo, no show of one-upmanship in any form, and it had felt so…so… satisfying. That was the only word he could think of to describe how he'd felt after that conversation.
Two days later it happened again, the two of them staying up half the night, arguing about what was the best use of magic in the field, and what might happen if someone got too accustomed to using spells for everything, even when the situation didn't call for it. It started by Seifer complaining about how Fujin had nearly stopped carrying items such as potions and phoenix downs with her when she went into the field, preferring to do everything accomplished by those devices with magic.
Squall had agreed with him on the principle of it (scary as that thought was when he thought about it) but had countered with the opinion that given that Fujin was now a sorceress, she needed to find ways to burn off the power inside her, if casting Cure and Regen on herself and other members of her squad every 15 minutes did the trick rather than hording the magic and having it curdle inside and corrupt the part of her that held fast to a SeeD's discipline and her bond of loyalty to Seifer, influencing her to strike out on her own and force Seifer to send SeeDs out to take her down. Not that he mentioned the last part, knowing that Seifer would not react well to the implication that he might one day be ordered to kill both his best and oldest friends, for if Fujin ever went rogue, Raijin would go with her as her knight.
Then he was forced to explain exactly why he thought that not using her magic constantly would make Fujin go rogue. Reluctantly, each word like pulling teeth, he related what he'd seen (and remembered, though the holes in his memory were slowly returning) of Edea at the height of Her power as a Sorceress, and what he'd learned from the recently opened Estharian databases about Adel. He wasn't able to say much about Ultimecia, given that he'd never actually seen his true Lady in the flesh, only having contacted Her through the barrier of time. When Time Compression had finally rolled around, She had discarded him, and while Seifer and the others had the purpose of getting to Her so they could finally finish Her off, he had still been reeling mentally from the pain of rejection and had remained alone until Seifer had found him.
But what he did know, and what he'd seen and read about Edea and Adel, had been more than enough to make a point. While they were at the Orphanage, Matron had always been casting mild healing spell on any small ouches any of the children picked up, and when you had six rowdy kids in one structure, four of them boys and two of those being Seifer and himself, that had added up to be quite a number of small, normally insignificant injuries, which had always been healed with a kiss and a whispered spell, unless of course Matron had been in one of her rare tempers and refused to heal a wound in order to (try at least to) make them sufficiently sorry with pain that they wouldn't hurt themselves quite that way again.
But when he compared it to Sorceress Edea, the Sorceress ruling Galbadia had rarely used Her magic at all. Sure, She had nearly killed Seifer on the Parade float with Ice, and had cut their duel there short with a Wind spell, but for the most part had been… how could he put it…stingy with Her magic, refusing to use it unless She wanted to take care of something, or someone, personally. That was how She had managed to power all those ferocious spells when Seifer and the others had cornered Her after Galbadia Garden's failed assault. From what Squall had read, Adel had been the same way, conserving Her magic unless She wanted to make a particular example out of some rebel or malcontent who had threatened to derail Her dreams of Empire.
Squall had heard of the numerous traps that had awaited the SeeDs in Ultimecia's lair, but he doubted that the protective spells had been cast shortly before Time Compression happened. It was truly impossible to say just how long Ultimecia had crouched in her castle, surrounded by her guardian GF's and ability-canceling spells, years at least, Squall was certain. Add that to the fact that the Time machine was mechanical, not magical in nature…well, the conclusion was really obvious if you just knew where to look.
The upshot of Squall's entire argument; was, really, that unless a sorceress used her power consistently, and often, it gathered and started t corrupt the wielder. That's why there were far more tales of evil sorceresses than kind ones like Matron had been. Not to mention, Squall didn't think it was a coincidence that Edea was only able to throw off Ultimecia's influence long enough to give up her magic, was after draining the majority of her power in the fight with Seifer and the others, or that Fujin only started to show signs of that influence after being in a virtual coma for over two months. Thus, if Fujin began to use that magic for nearly everything, than that could be only to the good.
Seifer had disputed a minor point he'd made somewhere in the middle of that mess, and they were off, each one of them trying to convert the other to their point of view. The only reason they'd stopped was because the Cafeteria people had finally kicked them out, saying that they had to get the room ready for breakfast. Squall had doubted it, given that it was barely 3 in the morning, but had taken note of the hour and called off the discussion, ignoring Seifer's obligatory groans and complaints with the ease of long practice.
Which brought him to now. He was starting to enjoy these 'chance' encounters far too much, even to the point of anticipating them and growing disappointed when Seifer missed their lunchtime talk due to a meeting with a prospective client that had run on too long. It was stupid; Squall knew that. Stupid to care about Seifer's unexpected absence, stupid to make something once annoying into one of the highlights of his day, stupid to be resentful for something Seifer had had no control over, and even less influence on if the blond wanted to keep these little talks quiet. He knew all that, but for some reason was… reluctant to do anything to jeopardize them, even when it might be the best thing for the both of them to cease.
As it was, it was a miracle that Garden's corridors weren't already ablaze with gossip about what the two of them might be doing together, certainly enough people had seen them together, heads together, as they debated some pointless topic between them, Seifer's hands flying everywhere as he tried to make his point, that all of Garden should be aware and curious about what they were up to.
Biting his lip thoughtfully, Squall glanced over the Quad without really seeing any of the extensive grounds, mind racing over possibilities. He could skip a meal, or two, here and there, and avoid Seifer's company that way. Dr. Kadowaki might get cross with him if he did, but he might be able to withstand that better than what he feared might be happening between himself and Seifer in the Cafeteria if they continued meeting as they had been without interruption. A sudden vision of what had occurred between the two of them in the Training Center the last time they'd sparred rose in his mind, causing him to reflexively flinch and shake his head, dispelling the image, color rising hotly in his cheeks.
Now wasn't the time to think of that. And definitely not the time to think about the traitorous dreams he'd had since, nor to mention the creeping desire that popped up at odd times to repeat that action, again and again (even to himself), nor to recall (with his cursed near-perfect memory) just how good it had felt. Just thinking about it made him uncomfortable, and not just because he still didn't know what to do with those feelings, or even if they were a good thing, or not.
Well, whatever happened, he'd have to make a decision sooner or later. While it might be far too easy to assume that the easy camaraderie he and Seifer currently enjoyed would last, Squall was far too much the veteran of things going wrong with other people to trust blindly, no matter how pigheaded Seifer might be. Sometimes it was better to cut ties oneself, rather than having them cut by someone else. Ellone, Edea, Ultimecia, Matron, Garden, Seifer…all of them had walked away from him at one time or another, but only one of them had put any effort into repairing that breach.
Unless he ended it on his own terms, that bond to Seifer would be a sword hanging over his head, ready to fall and kill him with the backlash at any time. He didn't think he could survive another abandonment, not coming so close to so many other drastic changes in his life. For a moment, as if to protest his train of thought, he thought he heard Dr. Kadowaki's voice in his head again, telling him that it was alright to care, that to care about someone didn't automatically mean that he would be hurt. He pushed those words aside. He couldn't take that risk. He didn't dare.
Or could he?
//\\
Well, things are moving along nicely, aren't they? This chapter was giving me fits earlier in the week, when nearly half of what I'd completed to that point abruptly decided that in belonged in the next chapter, rather than this one, completely disarranging my sense of how the chapter flowed together, not to mention my chapter outline that I keep to make sure all the threads in this story straight, well, as much as I can. I think I have it now, expect 3 maybe 4 more chapters before this story is done, and this time I mean it. I know I've said that before, but this time I believe I have the final arc of the story settled and things are starting to fall into place. I hope so at least. Seifer and Squall's troubles aren't over, not by a long shot, and this final foe is much more insidious and harder to fight than even a time-traveling sorceress.
And just for clarification, in Squall's mind, Edea and Matron are not the same person, not completely. For him, Edea is the Sorceress, erstwhile ruler of Galbadia, who surrendered and passed her power to Fujin following the attack by Galbadia Garden. Matron is the woman who raised him, who looked after him after Ellone left him. He knows that they're the same person, but he accords them different labels in his mind to keep his feelings for one from influencing his opinions of the other, which are truly complicated enough already.
Well, now that your suspense levels are up…(evil cackle) I'll leave you to wondering. Don't forget to review or I'll be sad and your next update will be delayed because of it!