Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is just for fun.
Saltwater
Chapter IV
It was like being born. Seifer's eyes shot open, black shrinking, green widening around the pupil. He took a shuddery intake of breath and blinked several times. The proverbial fog had lifted. He was no longer ill. He didn't know how long he'd been out; a day, two days, more? He had no idea. The last thing he could remember was stumbling into the kitchen to tell Quistis that he didn't want toast, then the dim awareness of a crash and someone falling. It didn't occur to him that the person who had fallen was himself.
Seifer was lying on his stomach, one arm dangling off the side of the bed and fingers brushing the cold floor. His arm had pins and needles shooting through it, and Seifer grimaced, forcing his fingers to wiggle and experiencing the discomfort of feeling the blood start to return to the limb. With some effort he flipped himself on to his back, and stared up at the ceiling, feeling weak and aching slightly. His stomach gave a low rumble, and Seifer realised that he probably hadn't eaten in days.
He laid there for a few moments more, watching little specks of dust glint golden in the light that streamed through a crack in the curtains, before groaning and sitting up with something of a struggle. He felt the blood rush to his head and felt dizzy. Seifer ran his large hands over his face, feeling altogether unwashed and grimy. Slowly, very slowly, he eased himself out of bed, swinging his long legs with some caution onto the floor. He felt his muscles cry out from days of lack of use, and groaned low in the back of his throat. The floor was smooth against his feet, and cold. Stiffly Seifer manoeuvred himself out of his room, looking around quickly to make sure no one was around, and pottered towards the shower.
Seifer caught a brief glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror and grimaced. His hair was disordered and seemingly in dire need of a trim. There were large, dark bags under his eyes and his skin was still pale and dull. He'd lost weight too; an amount that might not show as obviously on a smaller man, but on Seifer's large frame it made him look quite gaunt. His cheekbones stood out prominently. Seifer wasn't impressed in the slightest, vain creature that he was. With one last displeased glance, Seifer turned the knobs of the shower, shook off his grim-looking, days-old underwear and stepped inside it.
The hot water felt wonderful. Seifer overloaded on the soap, determined to wash away the layer of grime and ugly that had seemingly settled over him during the days he'd been unwell. Once again he wondered vaguely how long he'd been out for. He'd lost track of what day it was completely, but at the present moment in time was more concerned with getting clean. Seifer had never enjoyed being dirty, regardless of the circumstances. Grimly he remembered the state of his long grey trench coat at the end of his time as the Sorceress's Knight. It had been torn to pieces and covered with blood stains, mud and Hyne knows what else. He shuddered slightly. He liked that coat, although it was rare that he wore it nowadays. Edea had fixed it for him, spending days sewing and patching it. She had returned it to him silently one morning, with an expression on his face that he couldn't quite read, but which made him think of apologies'. The curved smile on her lips had been so sad that Seifer felt his stomach wrench to remember it. There hadn't been any words. Just the gift of the coat, a remnant of his old self, was enough.
But he didn't wear it. Occasionally he'd see it in his wardrobe, but mostly he tried to avoid looking at it. It brought up too many painful memories. It equated two completely separate times of his life; there was Seifer, the boy soldier, the troublemaker, the bully, the boy with the romantic dream – not pleasant but harmless enough. Then there was Seifer Almasy, the Sorceress' Knight, the man with the power to wipe out whomever he pleased with the click of a finger. He had still had his romantic dream then, only it had taken on a darker form - a form that he could never quite shake, no matter how softly-spoken or quiet he became, no matter how kind he was to Edea, no matter what he felt for Quistis or anyone else. He was tarred with that brush forever now, even though it felt like a lifetime ago; a lifetime of fire and anger and hurt and screaming despair, now hushed by the howling of the waves.
Stiffly, Seifer turned off the shower, standing there naked for a moment, feeling the droplets of water slide down his face and body, before landing with a soft splash on the ceramic tiled floor. A distinct feeling of melancholy had swept over him, and he felt the need to get some form of bland food and creep back to his bed.
He towelled himself dry, before slipping back on his dirty underwear, which felt particularly unpleasant now next to his clean skin. However, he was a soldier, he'd had worse than this, and he ignored the discomfort. The orphanage was strangely quiet, and he wondered vaguely where everyone was. His feet padded softly on the cold stone floor, and the brisk temperature on his bare skin was strangely invigorating after spending days in a sweaty bedroom. He ran a hand through his hair, scowling slightly at the extra length. He liked his hair short. Longer hair only saved to make him look like an abandoned Afghan hound, as far as he was concerned.
Eyes half-shut, Seifer gave a large yawn and rubbed his face with one hand. When he opened them, he stopped dead, expression one of sheer shock. Standing there, at the foot of the sink in the kitchen was Quistis. She had her back to him, and he briefly lost himself in the graceful slope of her shoulders and the gentle arch of her lower back and tiny waist. She looked like a little doll. Suddenly Seifer was very aware that he was naked save for a grimy pair of underwear. Quistis inclined her head slightly to the right, hearing the sound of him behind her, and slowly turned. She had been smiling before she'd realised his state of undress. She blinked rapidly, and Seifer felt slightly amused that a pinkish blush had appeared on Quistis' usually pale face.
"Oh," she said. "Oh."
Seifer felt a smile spreading across his face, alleviating the gauntness of his cheeks. "I didn't realise you were in here," he said. He glanced down at his underwear. "I'm not gonna apologise. I've been ill."
Quistis opened her mouth and closed it again, as if trying to gather her thoughts. Seifer's smug grin remained fixed on his face. "I was just about to go check on you actually," said Quistis, stammering slightly.
"Meaning to ask," said Seifer. "How long was I out for?"
"Three and a half days," said Quistis.
Seifer looked shocked. "Three days?" he said. "Hyne."
Quistis nodded, the blush gone from her cheeks now. "We were very worried about you."
"We? Who's we?"
"Matron and I," she said. "Everyone else has gone back to Balamb. I stayed here to given Matron a hand around the place." She glanced around. "Sometimes I forget how much cleaning this place takes to look good."
Seifer was still mulling over the concept that he had been more or less dead to the world for almost four days. His stomach rumbled and he raised an eyebrow, feeling strangely embarrassed by what was a pretty standard bodily reaction to being without food for several days. Quistis smiled. She'd heard it.
"Want me to fix you something?"
Seifer gave a half-nod, half-shrug. He wasn't used to being waited on like this. More often than not he was inclined to make his own food – nothing special, just baked potatoes or chicken breast or some sandwiches. He felt awkward, and very naked. He shuffled from the kitchen to his room, returning moments later wearing a creased, old t-shirt in an offensive shade of blue that didn't suit him. Quistis raised an eyebrow at it.
"Is that yours?"
"I don't know," said Seifer, feeling a bit lightheaded. "It was just the closest thing to hand." He grimaced at it. "I don't think it's mine though. I'd never pick anything this hideous."
"I think its Zell's," said Quistis, eyeing it.
"Well," said Seifer. "That explains why it's so gross." He sniffed at a corner of it. "I hope he washed it. I dread to think what creatures he's carrying."
Quistis rolled her eyes and continued to make Seifer's sandwich. It amazed her that even when he looked weak, pale and skinny, he was still capable of abusing Zell, even when he wasn't even around. She cut the sandwich into sections, put it on a plate and put it in front of Seifer. He eyed it, taking apart one section of sandwich, apparently approving the combination of cheese and tomato. He pratically inhaled it, making hideous noises. He had crumbs on his chin. She couldn't help but smile.
Once he was done he smiled at her. "Nice," he said. Quistis felt an unexpected glow in her chest, and hurriedly pushed it down. It was hard not to feel that glow when he smiled at her like that. After all, Seifer was beautiful, regardless of his numerous faults. A memory flashed through her head, from only days earlier, of Seifer sweaty, confused and wide-eyed begging her not to leave, clutching at her hand, as frightened and trusting as a child. Something in her stomach thumped low, once, and she tore her gaze away from Seifer's wide, white smile and his thinned cheeks.
"Well," she said, looking flustered. "If you want another one, just ask. You look skinny."
"Don't I know it," replied Seifer, looking with disdain at one of his wrists, noticeably shrunken. He peered at Quistis through narrowed eyes. "What was wrong with me anyway? What was it that fucked me up so much?"
Quistis forced herself to meet Seifer's unblinking green gaze. "A virus," she said curtly, her old ice-queen facade firmly in place. "You probably caught it off some creature in the forests, and combined with a chill you most likely caught from the sea it became serious rather fast."
Seifer processed this information with apparent indifference. "I don't remember much," he said eventually.
"You were very ill. Of course you don't."
Seifer was looking at her with an oddly intense expression and once again Quistis felt that unwanted flare of feeling in her stomach. "I'm guessing you helped Matron look after me, right?" he said. His tone was neither accusatory, nor thankful, and Quistis felt perturbed.
"Yes," she said, smoothing down her skirt, flustered.
"I thought as much," said Seifer, his voice low. A strange half-smile lit up his hard features. "Thanks." He gave a strange little shrug. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to." It came out before Quistis could stop it, and she averted her eyes from Seifer's uncomfortable emerald gaze. He stared at her for a long moment, and the silence hung heavily in the air.
Seifer stood shakily from the table. He'd bolted that sandwich too fast and felt a bit dizzy. "I'm gonna go lay down for a while, if Matron asks," he said. Quistis just nodded mutely, still refusing to look at Seifer, struggling with emotions that she couldn't - and didn't - want to place. She watched Seifer walk creakily back to his bedroom and heard the door shut with a click. Her head was full of images of when he'd been ill – his pupils dilated, his face strangely radiant and glowing despite the sweat and the sad, sad way he'd begged her to stay.
She remembered the day he'd been in the day, his face laughing and vibrant. He was so stubborn. He was so beautiful.
No, her brain told her. You're not entertaining these thoughts, so just stop. You're being a moron.
Quistis looked down at her hands, and was shocked to see that she was shaking.
Seifer could feel his stomach churning, mostly because of the sandwich. The cheese had been rich, and he had wolfed down that sandwich without giving any thought to the delicate state of his stomach. It had been a bit much at once. He lay down on his bed and rested his hands on his stomach, breathing in through his mouth and out through his nose in some sad attempt to quell the nausea that was curling in his gut. He hoped that he wouldn't throw up.
In the part of his mind that wasn't focused on not being sick, Quistis' words repeated themselves.
I wanted to.
He hadn't expected to hear those words. In the orphanage, as in Balamb Garden, Seifer always felt like someone who was to be tolerated rather than cared for. He'd grown so used to expressions of disdain and annoyance that even now he felt taken aback by the knowledge that anyone other than Matron could feel anything other than dislike for him.
Even the soldiers who had served under him during his time as the commander of the Galbadian army had regarded him with a sort of chill distaste, as if they couldn't quite cope with the embarrassment of being commanded by a boy little older than most of their own sons or themselves. As far as Seifer was concerned, he was nobody's son. He had ignored the derision of the generals and lieutenants underneath him, treating them with the same steely disinterest and arrogance with which he treated everybody else.
It was becoming more difficult to adopt this attitude with Quistis, however. Out of the entire group, it was she who was the kindest to him, and she treated him often in an offhand manner that implied that she liked him a lot more than Seifer suspected she actually did.
Regardless of her true feelings, Seifer still heard her words echo between his ears, and couldn't help but think about that fall of bright hair, those direct blue eyes. He felt like a fool, and denied every dangerous through that his stupid heart thrust his way with each dull throb.
She wanted to, he thought. She wanted to.
Those words in themselves brought on a whole different realm of nausea, albeit one that wasn't altogether unpleasant, just frightening. Against his own common sense, Seifer smiled past the sick feeling in his gut. Someone had done something for him, not because they had to, but because they wanted to. It was a warm feeling, spreading from his chest through his body and down to his toes.
Suddenly Seifer didn't feel so bad.
So sorry for the lateness of this update! It's been a very busy few months, what with graduating and moving house and a whole bunch of other nonsense. Many thanks to everyone whose reviewed so far. =)
-Lux
