May 31, 4012
Eventually, I learned their names.
Quistis Trepe, the no-nonsense blond with a firm personality but a gentle heart. And, if I wasn’t mistaken, a girlish crush on Squall that had since transferred to another, more deserving male.
Irvine Kinneas, playboy extraordinaire and suave gentlemen. He certainly played his part well, but even I could see his insecurities. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that the number of women he had actually seduced was much, much smaller than the number of hearts he had claimed to steal.
Selphie Tilmitt, hyperactive and cheerful, always planning some festival or another and scaring away her companions as a result. I, too, had learned the intelligence in avoiding Tilmitt and made it a point to do so.
Zell Dincht, the closet masochist with the tattoos all over his face. They fascinated me, but no more than when he whipped off his shirt and showed off the beautiful array of swirls and dark lines across his back. I had hidden my reaction of course, but Zell preened like a chocobo anyway.
And I had not failed to notice, either, that Zell’s eyes followed their fearless leader when he thought no one was looking.
The latter three – Squall, Rinoa, and Seifer – I had already known to a certain extent.
Commander of Balamb Garden. Hero to all of Gaia. The seventeen year old son of Laguna Loire, the President of Esthar. Pfft. And Squall had claimed my resume to be impressive. One couldn’t ask for a better bunch of cognomens to be attached to a singular entity.
Oh, and the fact he was dating General Caraway’s daughter. The press and tabloids had held a field day on that fact.
It didn’t help that Rinoa flaunted her attachment to Squall at every opportunity. Yet, never seemed to noticed his pained look at every camera flesh and dance floor. Sometimes, I wondered if the poor girl lived in a fantasy world of her own making and never noticed that she was the only attendee.
Certainly these mercenaries – who only looked like children but didn’t resemble them anywhere inside – wouldn’t be comfortable in her cotton candy coated world.
Seifer was fascinating as well, coming with his own array of monikers. The Sorceress’ Knight. The Sorceress’ Lapdog. The Commander of Galbadia Garden, though admittedly no one had heard or seen said garden since Balamb defeated it. I suspect that it was a twisted heap of metal somewhere in the Centra Plains.
Regardless, I came to know the heroes of the battle against Sorceress Ultimecia better than the general public. I learned that they were – in the barest sense – just a handful of human teenagers with their own fears and worries and struggles. Not like I hadn’t guessed as much.
I settled into Balamb Garden with little fanfare, quietly sliding into existence here. At first, Leonhart and his crew hadn’t known what to do with me except for the general, standing order of “watch him”. I wandered the halls, found myself stared at by students and SEED alike, and inevitably found myself banned from the Training Center because I killed too many of the monsters and the students had nothing to practice against.
Even the shooting range didn’t hold me for too long. I had noticed, on my previous wanderings, that their teaching in guns was not only lackluster, but sorely lacking. The students were not only pitiful, but pathetic. Most could barely hit the target board, much less the bull’s eye. It was painfully obvious that marksmanship was not a subject given any focus in Balamb Garden. Kinneas was the only one who I had ever noticed demonstrating any talent and he had been borrowed from Galbadia Garden. And the few times I had seen Leonhart at the range, he was skilled as well.
It was that realization that eventually led me, one month after coming to stay in Balamb Garden not entirely of my own free will, to becoming an instructor on the Garden’s payroll. Leonhart didn’t quite trust me, but he conceded to my talents. And though I wasn’t a SEED, I had been granted some kind of status that enabled me to teach their sorry students what it truly meant to be a gunman. Or woman, in some cases, as most of my students – especially the more promising ones – were female.
Cid would “shit a brick” so to speak (and in his own words) if he ever knew that I had become a teacher of all things.
In that manner, my position and place within Balamb Garden was set. And though Leonhart’s attempts to provide a subtle babysitter for me were amusing, I pretended I didn’t notice that was his intention. Besides, it gave me ample time to learn more about the children that had saved the world.
“Interesting,” Quistis murmured, shifting in her seat as she crossed one leg, her eyes moving quickly over the lines of text propped up on her lap. “So you’re saying that energy was crafted from the planet’s… blood?”
I inclined my head. “In a sense,” I explained, curling fingers around a warm mug of coffee, black with one sugar. “Except that in Gaia – Gaea’s – case, that blood is comprised of the souls of all living creatures. Including those with sentience. We called it the Lifestream.”
“There’s nothing about that in any of these books.”
I sipped at the coffee, letting the strong flavor spill over my tongue. “Most of the books in this library date no further back than 3500. I suspect Esthar might have some even older, but again, this world has changed much in the past two thousand years. I wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of true history had been eradicated.”
She adjusted her glasses, her eyes falling back to the book. “That is a shame,” Quistis said quietly, one of the first to adjust to my presence despite my unusual appearance. I credited that to her mostly scientific and logical mind. “And Esthar… you said it used to be a place of learning?”
“Cosmo Canyon,” I clarified, thinking warmly of Nanaki. My gaze shifted to the window, shafts of yellow sunlight pouring through it. “All of the greatest scholars gathered there.”
A wind rose, fresh and pure, scenting strongly of salt and seaweed. Balamb Garden coasted over the ocean at the moment, heading toward its usual resting place near Balamb on the solitary, center island. That and word had it a certain tattooed blond owed his mother a visit. But you didn’t hear it from me, according to Selphie.
Footsteps approached with the sort of exuberance that was jarring to the quiet recollection between Quistis and I. We both turned towards the door as Zell strolled towards the edge of the Quad – still in reconstruction — a verifiable bundle of energy wrapped in what appeared to be aggravation.
“Quisty!”
The female sighed, reaching up and removing her glasses as her fingers fluttered against her forehead. “Zell. Haven’t I said something about restraint before?”
He flashed her a fang-bearing grin. “Maybe,” the martial artist hedged, only to flop down to the ground as if it were mattress and fold his arms behind his head. He rolled blue eyes – the color of the ocean – up towards her. “Whatcha doin’? Oh, hey, Vincent.”
Zell didn’t ascribe to the ‘Mr. Valentine’ polite distance that everyone else around me had adopted. I noticed that when it came to personal space, Zell took it more of a suggestion than a rule. Even stranger was that no one seemed to mind. The only person this didn’t include was Seifer Almasy, the two blonds carrying a hate-hate relationship which seemed to stem mostly from bullying than anything else.
I tipped my head. “Good Afternoon, Dincht. Having a pleasant day, I take it?” The question was purely sarcastic as Zell’s face barely concealed an annoyance brimming underneath.
“Weren’t you with Squall?” Quistis added, reaching for her own cup and sipping at the tea she had brewed. It held a strong aroma, one of chamomile.
Zell made a rude noise with his mouth, his eyelids shuttering over his eyes. “Girlfriend’s take precedence.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of Quistis’ mouth. “You mean she bullied you out of the way?”
The martial artist didn’t immediately respond, his lips twisting with a definite sulk. Sensing that Zell wanted to speak with Quistis on a private matter, I decided to make myself scarce. Even if it was no big secret that Leonhart and his dearest love were having… problems.
Honestly, it didn’t take a genius to see they were unmatched. With nothing in common, it seemed doomed from the start. One couldn’t turn a mercenary into a prince. And one definitely couldn’t turn a princess into a hardened killer. I fully believed that Squall only remained with Rinoa out of a debt. He owed her for the changes she had helped bring about in him, and for putting her in the position to absorb the Sorceress’ powers. For all his cold, stoic nature, Squall was adept at misplaced guilt.
Much like someone else I knew.
I rose to my feet, gathering both of their attention. “Mr. Valentine?” Quistis said quizzically. Zell kept his comment to himself.
I made a show of checking the time on my phone, an outdated device compared to what the world used nowadays. “I have a class that begins shortly. We will continue again?” The last was more of a suggestion.
Quistis nodded, her eyes shining with interest, fascinated by the history I was relating to her. “Of course.”
No further words were needed. I set my cup aside, sure some Trepe fan would come to claim it later along with Quistis’, and departed, feeling Zell’s eyes on me the entire time. He certainly was an unusual person. There was a brain – calculating and sharp – behind his exuberance. I didn’t know why he chose to pretend to be otherwise.
“He looks worse, Quisty,” Zell complained, probably when he thought I was out of earshot. Which would make sense for a normal human.
It didn’t take a genius to figure just whom Zell was talking about. Their fearless leader, who wasn’t, perhaps, so fearless after all.
The general populace never considered it; never wondered what effect saving the world might have on their heroes. After the enemy was defeated, and peace returned, and safety considered again, how many actually looked at the aftermath and truly understood? Rebuilding and restructuring. Returning trust where it was damaged. Restoring rule. Dealing with the consequences of a time of peril.
But while the world itself had suffered, what of the heroes that fought to defend it? I had been there; I had seen it close hand. Reeve drove himself to death trying to fix ShinRa’s mistake. Cloud couldn’t think about the past without pain in his eyes, pain that occasionally drove him into solitude, leaving Tifa to fret over a pain she couldn’t heal. Barret’s need to protect someone – anyone – since he had failed with Dyne so badly before had ultimately led to his end as well. And the many scars on the heart of the other’s.
Being a hero wasn’t safe work. Especially to the psyche. And the longer I stayed here in Balamb Garden, the more I bore witness to the effects this battle had on the teenage heroes of it.
Squall, who occasionally stalked the halls at all hours of the morning, looking tired and worn but for all that, unable to sleep. As though the next enemy might be lurking around any corner, waiting for the moment of weakness to strike. Sometimes, the relentless energy was released at the Training Center. But more often, he had no outlet.
Irvine, who spent enough time in the shooting range to have thought to be living there. Firing round after round into the target, piercing the same spot every time, telling himself that this time, he wouldn’t miss. Lack of official words had him attempting to leap from bed to bed, seeking a comfort that won’t be found in such shallow encounters.
Seifer, who overcompensated for the looks of derision and fear by being an even larger asshole than was necessary. Who had obviously paid close attention to the way people shied away from him and his path but pretended he hadn’t because his arrogance wouldn’t allow him to appear defeated by anything, much less people’s opinions of him.
Quistis, whose passion for teaching had grown so heavy on her shoulders it had become a burden. She looked into the faces of her students and promised herself that they would be strong, that they wouldn’t falter. She took each student’s future in her hands, vowing that no matter what happened, she wouldn’t fail them. Not this time.
Selphie, who clung with overbearing tenacity to any of her friends at a moment’s notice. As the only one who could get away with attacks of affection, she did so at any unannounced second, even the ever-stoic Squall. Gripping tightly, as though fearing if she didn’t remind herself of their existence every day, they would slip through her fingers.
Zell, who trained until his knuckles were bloody, and watched – always watched – as his leader spiraled downwards and couldn’t help him because that wasn’t his place. That was someone else’s. Zell was a time bomb, ticking, ticking, ticking, and a part of me feared what would happen when the numbers ran to zero.
Rinoa, who countered what she had seen by pretending it hadn’t happened, that all she needed in the world was to cling to Squall’s side and imagine a perfect life. White house, picket fence, two and a half kids, and Angelo at her side. And if she concentrated hard enough, a part of her could even forget the Sorceress abilities raging through her.
These children were so much like we had been that it burned, it ached in a way I wasn’t sure how to express. In them, I saw my dearest friends, and that thought clenched so strongly inside me that I felt the echoes radiate everywhere.
They only served to remind me of just how much I missed them.
— July 8, 4012 —
The habit to roam had not faded, despite the brief sense of permanence living at Balamb Garden had given me. Even more so when the aching that flowed through my body proved to be unaffected by the judicious applications of pain medication. I refused to lie in bed and throb with strange pains, and in that, I would rise to my feet and wander the halls, thus the reason I knew Squall had the habit of doing so.
We stopped at times and conversed, usually of thing or another. His interest didn’t lie in history like Quistis. Or in weaponry like Irvine. In most cases, it was I who talked and Squall who listened. He seemed to need that, some sort of stable influence that didn’t require him to participate. I accepted his mute nods and his faraway look, knowing that he absorbed every word and locked it away into some categorical part of his mind.
Squall seemed most interested in hearing about my former companions. I could only speculate as to why. Perhaps because our camaraderie reminded him of the near-forced companionship that existed between he and his friends – separated by time and brought together again through circumstance. It was painfully clear that they didn’t understand him as well as they should, but they were well-meaning, and it was clear that they were all family, in some way.
Just like I had been with Cloud and the others oh so many centuries ago.
The nights were warm, even with the controlled environment of the garden, and soon aches and overheating drove me from my quarters to roam the halls. It wasn’t as late as it could be, still before midnight, but it was enough for the corridors to be devoid of students, all in their dorms for curfew. Except for those individuals in the Training Center of course.
The silence of Balamb Garden at night was perfect for contemplation, not that I really wanted to think about anything. I simply couldn’t be at ease in the sterile confines of my quarters. I longed to breathe fresh air, and it was for that reason I headed to the second floor, east wing deck. We were still docked at Balamb, but I didn’t want to actually leave the garden. The deck was the next best thing.
Needless to say, I spent a lot of time on the deck.
Floor lights glowed softly, providing ample illumination. After curfew, the main lights in Balamb Garden dimmed to next to nothing, not that I had any trouble seeing. I supposed it was a method of both mimicking light and preserving power.
The elevator dinged with a quiet, muted sound and dropped me off on the second floor. Schoolrooms were empty, computers humming in stand-by mode, whiteboards holding the last of the lessons. And the door to the deck was open by just a crack.
Strange.
I reached for the handle, only to pause when voices floated to my ears. I pushed it open a bit further, carefully, and peered onto the deck.
Squall and Rinoa. A lover’s moment, hmm? Except they were far from being locked in an embrace. Squall leaned on the railing, elbows balanced on the metal as he looked out beyond the garden. Rinoa stood with her back to the door, arms dangling at her sides, hands curling and uncurling.
“This isn’t the kind of life I want.”
“You knew what we were when you came here, Rinoa,” Squall said, voice remarkably lacking intonation, but even I could see his shoulders tighten. “In fact, you sought out Balamb Garden because we were mercenaries. That hasn’t changed.”
She let out a sound of frustration, her voice betraying her emotions, thick with something restrained. “I just don’t see why you have to keep doing it. What’s the point? Killing and fighting… don’t you even want peace?”
“Peace is a loose concept,” Squall said quietly, practically textbook. “And it’s only ever brought about by blood and war. Timber is proof of that.”
Ah, Timber. Rumor had it they were on fight for independence number five and counting. If I recalled correctly – thanks to Selphie’s explanation more than anything – it was fighting for Timber that had brought Rinoa here in the first place. I didn’t understand what the princess thought she was intending by joining Timber’s struggle. Maybe to her it was just a game. Maybe she thought she wanted to do something. Maybe she never realized just what she had gotten herself into.
“Do you honestly believe that?” Rinoa demanded, aghast. She stepped forward, one hand rising to her chest. “Squall! You can’t really think–”
He turned around, cutting off her words with the motion, and for all that his face was blank, there was a storm behind his eyes. “This is how I’ve been taught, Rinoa. How we’ve all been taught. If the world was saved and run on ideals, then right now, Ultimecia would be here and not us.”
Rinoa’s hand fell, her gaze turning away, towards the wall. “I hate this place,” she murmured, hands trembling. “I hate these kinds of places and what they breed. All I’ve ever known is the military thanks to my father, and I hated that, too.”
Squall’s arms crossed over his chest, a defensive posture. “Then why are you here?”
“If you have to ask me that, then there’s something else wrong than my unhappiness,” Rinoa retorted bitterly.
It occurred to me that I was intruding on something rather private and revealing. And yet, for the life of me, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. It was something I had seen coming and a part of me remained curious.
It wasn’t that I disliked Rinoa. I had simply believed that she didn’t belong here. This wasn’t her world. These weren’t her people. This wasn’t her sort of life. Did she ever honestly think she would be happy here? Or did she truly believe that she would be enough to woo Squall away from a life he knew and obviously accepted?
It was Squall’s turn to not look at her, frustration etched into his classic features. “I’m not sure what you want from me, Rinoa. I can’t be what you want me to be.”
“I wasn’t asking you to change. I just thought…” She broke off, frustrated by her own inability to communicate what she desired.
I could see his fingers, pressing tighter against the worn-in leather of his coat. “Thought what?” he said, softer now, a tiny tic leaping in his jaw.
Rinoa’s shoulders hitched, a defining tremble, and even I was surprised she hadn’t burst into tears. Perhaps I didn’t give her enough credit. After all, she was courageous enough to stand against a Sorceress Bitch bent on world destruction despite having no military background whatsoever.
I couldn’t blame her for not desiring this life. Personally, it was all I knew but I had the feeling that had I been raised a bit differently, I might have desired something else from life. But the thought of stillness and peace, of submitting to a life where my skills grew rusty and I did nothing but lament on the ‘old days’ made me shiver to the core. Boredom was one of the worst things my long existence suffered.
I’d rather not do it intentionally.
“I thought love was all we needed.”
I bit my internal tongue on a sarcastic remark to that, and I just knew Squall had to be as well. Someone like him… believing in love was like believing in peace. Another loose concept. I was certain that Rinoa’s definition of love vastly differed from Squall’s definition.
Squall sighed, his hands falling from their defensive position. It was a sound and motion of defeat. “Rinoa, you’re not happy,” he said, without inflecting any blame, simply stating an obvious face. “And I don’t think I can make you happy. I don’t think I know how. And…” Here, his face faltered, his stony expression cracking as he sought to find the right words. “I don’t think I can learn either. Not without becoming someone else.”
“It’s not enough,” Rinoa added flatly, dawning realization cresting over her, but also sounding as if she had already come to this conclusion. “I love you, Squall, and I wished – Shiva! How I wished! — that were enough.” She swallowed thickly and from her profile, I could see that her eyes had closed.
The fact that I had always believed it an inevitability did not make this any less painful to watch. Especially since I knew it was hurting the both of them so terribly. And ending like this was the worst – and in a way best – kind. There was no indiscretion, or awful fighting, or lies. There were still emotions, strong ones. And the problem remained was that they were two different people, wanting two different things, and somewhere down the line, there would have been fighting and deceit. And it would have been all the more painful.
I felt like I had intruded long enough. I didn’t need to witness the rest to know how it was going to end.
Squall opened his mouth to say something and I quietly turned away from the door, silent footsteps moving back down the hallway. The next classroom was open, if not dark, and I stepped inside, waiting for the two lovers – former lovers – to finish their discussion. I leaned against the wall, arms over my chest, as I considered.
They were young. Different. And recently survived a perilous battle together. Not exactly the prime equation for everlasting love and happiness.
I didn’t wait long. Not but five minutes after making my surreptitious escape, I heard footsteps heading down the hallway at a fast clip. But only one pair. Peering out, I watched as Rinoa headed back towards the lift, and no doubt her quarters. That the commander and his lover had separate rooms hadn’t surprised me. No doubt his odd hours would have kept her up.
Assuming Squall would leave not long after, I prepared to wait just a bit longer. I wasn’t prepared for the voice to slide into the silence, especially since I hadn’t heard another pair of footsteps.
“Eavesdropping, Mr. Valentine?”
To my credit, I nether jumped nor showed my alarm. I merely slid into the square of light spread across the floor, finding that Squall stood in the hallway, staring in my general directions. Arms were crossed over his thin – too thin if you asked me – chest.
He had known I was there. Interesting.
I tilted my head. “Unintentionally.”
Squall didn’t even blink. “Unintentionally usually ceases once an accident has been noticed.”
I was far too old to feel much shame for my actions; nor did I bother to try and hide it. “Unless curiosity replaces it.”
“Curiosity…” He shook his head, gaze wandering away as chocolate strands drifted across his forehead. “I’m sure you have better things to gawk at then the quarreling between a pair of teenagers.”
I chose the doorframe as a place to lean, keeping my voice soft so it wouldn’t echo needlessly in the abandoned hallways. “It was more than just a quarrel.”
All of Squall seemed to pause before he closed his eyes and lifted a hand, grinding his palm against one socket. “I would say break-up but that sounds too juvenile.”
“It would be safer to say that she abandoned you.”
I watched as the tremor worked its way through Squall’s body, one of restrained emotion and violence. His jaw ticked. “And on that note, have a good night, Mr. Valentine.” He turned to leave, even managing several striding steps.
“I didn’t say it to be cruel,” I continued, thinking Rinoa to be a foolish girl indeed. There was untapped passion with Squall, but then, one had to accept the outward stoicism first. “I said it to assure you that it was not your fault.”
He snorted. “Isn’t it?”
Squall was hurting; it was obvious to anyone with eyes to see. That he buried it behind a cold wall and acerbic comments was strangely familiar.
“That you and Miss Heartilly lack commonalities to keep you together is not your fault,” I said, watching him closely. “Nor is it hers. It is simply a case of two people who find themselves traveling in opposite directions. It is inevitable that they do not meet.” I paused, conceding one point. “Except perhaps on the other side of the world.”
Stormy blue eyes – dimmed to a stone grey by the torrent of emotion swirling inside of him – focused on me. “And yet you called it abandonment.”
My arms folded behind my back, fingers of one hand curling around the wrist of the other. “Only because it is obvious that you are in need of support right now and were, at the time, only willing to accept it from her.”
Squall stiffened. “You certainly don’t pull any punches, do you, Mr. Valentine?” he asked, but there was a touch of respect in his voice. His arms hung at his sides, slack but vibrating with tension.
“If you were to live as long as I have, you would have learned that subtleties are less important than frank responses.”
The teenager nodded distractedly. “And so you thought to offer me advice?”
I fought the smile that tried to tug at my lips; Squall might consider it to be teasing rather than bitter amusement. “I do have significantly more experience than you.”
“Two millennium worth?”
“Something like that.”
Squall made a noncommittal noise, still turned towards the elevator, but at least some of the tension had eased from his body. I had given him something to think about, something to consider.
A cough worked its way past my lips and I stifled it by directing the unasked for reaction to my shoulder. Raspy and dry, the cough was more annoying than anything. And it always brought with it an ache in my back, as though my very lungs were sore.
Rolling his head around as though to ease the tightness of his neck muscles, Squall flipped a hand over his shoulder. “I would say thank you for the advice, but I’m still not entirely sure it was welcome. Good night, Mr. Valentine.”
“I sincerely hope you are not retreating to the solitude of your chambers, Leonhart,” I countered, sliding completely into the hallway as Squall’s slow, but steady stride carried him down the corridor. “Mr. Dincht is in the Training Center.”
Squall paused, one grey eye regarding me over his shoulder. “I’m not even going to ask how you know that,” he said, and paused again, head tilting to the side. “Or why you felt the need to tell me.”
This time, I couldn’t stop the smile. “He is a much better challenge than the local bestiary.”
Snorting, Squall continued on his way, leaving me alone in the corridor. Finally. I contemplated heading to the deck as I had originally planned but after bearing witness to that emotional joyride – only without the joy – I decided to seek out some other form of entertainment. Perhaps the library. Quistis had shown me the back entrance as well as given me the clearance codes to enter it after-hours.
If anything, losing myself in the written word would be a useful distraction.
Decision made, I passed the door to the east-wing deck and headed to the little used corridor beyond it, mostly known for housing janitorial closets and extra storage space. And thanks to Quistis, I had also learned that there was a back, emergency staircase that deposited one in the archives of the library.
I rounded the corner, and nearly leapt out of my skin when I found another person standing there in the shadows. These teenagers and their ability to walk as silently as I were going to find themselves on the business end of the Dirge of Cerberus one of these days. They were damned lucky that my instincts had softened a tad over the years.
Jade eyes gleamed at me, lips twisted into an ever-present smirk as Seifer leaned against the white-washed walls, arms folded over his chest. One booted foot was planted against the wall, serving as a balance.
“So…” he began, tilting his head as he watched me draw to a halt, regarding him with the same intent he gave me. “Puberty Boy and the Princess are calling it quits, huh?”
“You don’t sound surprised.”
Well-built shoulders lifted and fell. “Saw it coming.”
I inclined my head, agreeing completely. “As did we all. Except, perhaps, for the two of them,” I added, quieter now. Surprised because this was the first time Seifer had initiated conversation with me since our first slightly aggressive meeting in the Quad.
Seifer smirked, an expression that suited him, even if it did succeed in intimidating half of the residents of Balamb Garden. And irritating the other half. “Yeah? Well now Chicken Wuss can get his heart’s desire.”
One eyebrow arched, seeking residence in my hairline. “You knew about that as well?”
He reached up, tapping his temple with one finger. “I’m not just looks, Valentine. There’s a brain up here too.”
“If only you’d choose to show it more often.”
Seifer laughed, though the sound was half-mockery and less amusement. “Know what? I like you, Valentine. You have more wit than this whole school. Except maybe Squally-boy. But he’s an exception.”
Crimson eyes regarded him. “Don’t tell me you’re in love with him, too,” I said, entirely dead pan, knowing Seifer – intelligent boy that he was – would read my sarcasm.
The boy burst into laughter again, truly amused this time, the deep, soulful laugh echoing in the corridor. “With the Ice Princess?” he repeated, adding another burst of laughter, lips pulled into a Cheshire grin. I half-expected him to slap his knee. “Damn, Valentine, I never knew you had such a sense of humor.”
My own lips twitched, but I wanted for him to get a hold of himself before I continued, holding the same mild tone. “I take it that my query was off the mark?”
“It’s not even in the same ballpark, sweetheart,” Seifer returned, and thumbed at his chin. “Squally-boy’s a good fighter, and yeah, he’s the only gunblader so about the only other competition I’ve got. But I’m not in love with the poor bastard. I’ve got better taste than that.”
“Then half the population of Balamb Garden as well,” I commented, having witnessed as much during my stay here. If they weren’t swooning over Squall – women and men alike I might add – then they were crushing hard over one of the other heroes. They all had their fan clubs, even if they didn’t know it.
Seifer smirked. “Never been one to follow the trends.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“Besides,” we’re just friends,” Seifer continued, his tone taking on a thoughtful note. His fingers rubbed across the scar slanting between his brows, one that almost matched Squall’s were it not for the opposite angles. “Though if you tell anyone that, you’ll face the sharp end of Hyperion. We like everyone thinking we’re bitter rivals. Makes things easier.”
Strangely enough, I actually understood. “I can imagine,” I said, and looked around pointedly. “And your reason for stalking this shadowy corridor?”
Seifer shrugged, pushing off the wall and letting his hands dangle at his sides, less threatening. “Same as yours probably,” he said, the shift in position forcing the dim glow of the hall to highlight the dark rings encircling his eyes. “Better than tossing and turning on my bunk.”
“Indeed. Insomnia strikes even the best of us.”
Jade eyes focused on me. “Do ya always talk like that?”
I wasn’t quite sure what he meant. He must have read my confusion because Seifer followed it by waving off his own comment.
“Never mind. You’re an old man, so it probably makes sense. In a weird way.” He closed the distance between us, stalking closer, never one to care for someone else’s personal space. I supposed it was another method of intimidation for him. “You know, some people are afraid of you.”
“What a coincidence,” I countered, not one to be intimidated by a child of all things. Even if Seifer was eighteen and long past the age of childhood. “Because I seem to recall those very same people holding the same opinion for you.”
To his credit, Seifer didn’t even flinch. “You don’t seem concerned.”
“I doubt that there is a single individual in this building that could possibly do me any lasting harm,” I returned dryly, and cock my head to the side. “I have no reason to fear children. Even those who try to lord over me with all of an extra inch in height.”
For a moment, a half-tense silence swept between us, Seifer a mere armsbreadth away and matching me stance for stance. His cologne – whatever he named it – seemed to surround him and as I inhaled, I caught several whiffs of it. Dark and dangerous, just like the man himself. Fitting.
Finally, Seifer chuckled, dragging a hand through the short lengths of his blond hair. “Like I said, you’ve got brains. Personally, I don’t think you’re anything to be scared of either.” He shrugged, gaze skipping briefly past me. “But fuck, what do I know? I’m just some Sorceress’ lapdog.”
I refrained from commenting on that particular land mine. It was clear it was something that niggled at Seifer. Not that he had lost, but that, in the end, he had been just a pawn. And for someone like Seifer, there was nothing that rankled more than the realization he had been as worthless as he always believed himself to be. Everyone believed Squall to be the emotionally weak one, and because of Seifer’s loud, recklessness, had always thought Seifer to be the one better held together.
How wrong they were. Just as Tifa had never been able to truly see Cloud’s psychosis, those surrounding Seifer and Squall could not understand that their perceptions were mistaken.
Seifer was not evil. To be ambitious, to desire something of your own to hold, to want power and to be respected… those were not evil intentions. Seifer and the rest of the residents of Garden were mere children raised to have these dreams. How can anyone fault them for becoming what society has demanded of them? And yet these mercenaries, these trained from children cold-blooded killers, would turn their nose up at Seifer’s existence. At his very audacity to return to Balamb Garden after Ultimecia’s defeat. Their opinions rankled at me in a way nothing else here had. Not even the suspicious looks pressed my direction bothered me half as much as the distrust painted into the faces of Seifer’s own classmates and allies.
“I am an unknown entity. They are wise to be suspicious,” I said instead, because as long as I had lived, the opinions of others had grown to matter very little to me. What did I care for the thoughts of someone I would outlive? “Any good soldier would remain wary in this unique case.”
Seifer looked at me, a myriad of emotions fluttering across his face – he didn’t hide his reactions nearly as well as Squall – before he laughed again. “Aye, though I don’t think any of us have seen you get so much as irritated, much less pissed off enough to attack anyone.”
And rightly so. Monsters and bitch sorceresses and time compression aside, these children had never borne witness to Chaos or my transformation into him. If I had things my way, they never would.
Honestly, I hadn’t had cause to revert to any of my other forms in quite some time. There was little in the way of bestiary to challenge me. I couldn’t recall the last time Chaos had eclipsed my mind. No wonder the demons were getting so restless, even if they did have all those magic spells to toss around in the back of my increasingly cluttered mind.
I cocked my head to the side. “That almost sounded like curiosity, Almasy,” I said, wondering where Seifer was heading with this.
He leaned closer, something glittering behind his eyes. An invitation. My nostrils flared, unintentionally drawing in more of the mysterious scent that Seifer seemed to exude.
“I don’t know. I think I’d like to see it. A bit of a challenge, ne?”
I couldn’t form a proper response, my logic shorting out, before Seifer smirked and turned away, throwing a wave over his shoulder in a motion that strongly resembled Squall’s. Except that while Leonhart stalked down the hall with the grace of a lazy panther, Seifer strode with confidence in every step. All that he lacked was the flutter of a tattered and well-worn white trenchcoat.
My eyes narrowed in contemplation before I realized that it would do me little good to waste time attempting to reason out Seifer’s intentions. I didn’t know enough about the blond, though I had the keen thought that something had just been born. Friendship perhaps?
Only time would tell. And fortunately, I had plenty of that.
Pandora's Box 