FFVIII: Spellbound (3)

[edenbound]

Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Squall/Rinoa
Warnings: Squall POV
Chapter: Three
Rating: PG
Summary: Seifer needs Squall and Rinoa's help. For multi-chapter fics, warnings and pairings are chapter specific.


I arranged a duel with Seifer. I was excited, getting plenty of rest the night before, polishing and checking Lionheart thoroughly. I used to live for our fights, and we hadn't had one in so long...

But it was a disappointment.

His heart just wasn't it. I couldn't rouse him to fight with me, couldn't make him angry – his eyes were intense, but the intensity wasn't the old fire that used to live there, it was something else, something that made me feel uncomfortable rather than at home. We fought in the same old pattern, never slipping from the groove, I could almost predict every move.

That was why he used to be so hard to beat. Because he was completely unpredictable.

It was no good with him being normal and easy. I didn't know what he was up to but I was beyond sick of him. I quickened my pace, forcing him to block more fiercely, gritting my teeth as shocks from our blades meeting seemed to rattle all the bones in my body. But still, he couldn't surprise me, not with a feint, not with a straight forward slash.

I whirled Lionheart around, stopping it just short of the main artery in his neck. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Almasy?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, cool as a cucumber despite the cold metal of my gunblade against his warm skin, skin that jumped and throbbed with life, with blood.

“You're not fighting like you could do. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He snorted softly and reached up, pushing the blade away from his neck. The leather of his gloves protected him from getting cut by it, though the leather split easily under the blade. “It's sharper than it used to be,” he said, sounding surprised, surveying the split in his gloves. “You owe me some new gloves, Leonhart.”

“Whatever.”

“Aww, back to the old standby?” he asked, and then gave me that look again. I hated it. I wanted him to stop. I would kill him to make him stop looking at me like that.

“Don't look at me.”

“Why can't I?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

I didn't say anything. To say anything at that point would be to admit to a weakness. In fact, I shouldn't have said it at all. I shut my mouth and stared at him. Silence always makes people uncomfortable. Stay silent and stare long enough and you can have people spilling out secrets, if they're easily intimidated enough.

Seifer wasn't easily intimidated.

“How about a date, Leonhart?” he asked, smirking easily, “I'll tell you what's wrong... over dinner.”

“I'm going out to dinner with Rinoa,” I lied, and wondered why. He was just messing with me about the date thing, I could see no reason to turn him down and yet, instinctively, I did. I made plans to make sure he didn't catch me out and to take Rinoa out. Maybe to Esthar. Far away from Seifer, anyway. There was that unidentifiable look in his eyes again, though a little sadder. I didn't understand. I just wanted to know why he kept looking at me like that, and yet something in me told me that I didn't want to know.

“Too bad. Over coffee, then. Tomorrow morning,” he said, eyes on me.

I nodded. He smiled slightly.

“It's a date.”

And off he went.

“It's nice that you let Seifer back into Garden,” Rinoa said later, smiling, eating a yoghurt delicately. I watched her, the way she took a small scoop, handling the spoon like a delicate tool, the scoops always perfect, and the way she would make sure she didn't look at all suggestive eating it. I smiled slightly, and she laughed, putting a finger in the yoghurt and reaching up to dab it on my nose.

I've never understood her little games. But she seemed happy and I let her do it. I wiped the yoghurt off quickly before anyone else noticed, and savoured the laughter in her eyes.

“There's something wrong with him, though,” I said, frowning slightly.

“Maybe he's just uncomfortable,” she suggested, “you should make more of an effort to make him comfortable and welcome.”

“He's not welcome,” I said, but only softly. Rinoa pretended not to hear.

So the next morning I was ready to be kind to him. Or, well, not kind. But I was ready to listen to whatever he had to say. Offer him help if he needed it. I didn't know what the problem was then, of course. I figured it would be something to do with people harassing him. Some reason making that stick on his mind, distracting him. I didn't care. I was prepared to be somewhat helpful to get a decent sparring partner back, anyway.

He took me to a place in Balamb instead of the cafeteria. He paid for two coffees. I had to wonder why he was doing it, but apart from the fact that he was staring at me again all the way there, no alarm bells rang.

“So. Almasy. Tell me what's up with you,” I said, curtly, perhaps a little too curtly.

He sighed softly. “I guess you think it's something to do with the war.”

“Well, isn't it?” I raised an eyebrow, tapping my fingers against the table. I had better things to do than sit there and listen to him – or rather, not listen to him, but just wait for him to get over himself and tell me.

“Not... completely.” He wrapped his fingers around his coffee cup, warming them. For a moment, we stayed silent. I wasn't going to be the first to speak – it was his problem, not mine. I was almost doing him a favour by coming here to listen. I could have made him tell me there and then, when I had Lionheart against his throat. He looked up at me, trying to hide the look in his eyes now, and sighed softly. “The truth is, Ultimecia still has some hold on me, I guess. She cast a spell on me, in case I failed...”

I resisted the urge to reach for my gunblade. I swallowed hard and raised an eyebrow, trying to remain cool, unaffected, “And the spell...?”

“A love spell,” he said, softly, and then paused, to let it all click together in my mind.