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FFVIII: The Smoothest Course
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Squall always goes the easy way. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
30_fantasies.
"Some day, you'll learn to quit going with the flow."
Squall frowns at that, not looking up from the spread of various documents in front of him. Seifer is here to be punished for causing some disturbance in Garden, he's sure, not for a social visit, and so you'd think he could act a little more contrite -- at the least keep quiet until spoken to, and speak politely and impersonally when he does speak. But, Squall thinks, with a tolerant sigh; that's never been Seifer's way. Finally, he signs and sets aside the last form of the pile, and glances up at Seifer. "Did you say something?"
"You heard me."
He has his arms folded in front of him. If Squall goes with the flow -- which he admits to himself, he might well do; whatever's easiest -- Seifer resists it all the way. They could probably both do with changing: but neither will. That's the way of it.
"Right. I did. Why are you here?"
"Maybe I just wanted to say hi."
Squall snorts derisively and looks up at Seifer, his hair tumbling into his eyes and serving as an almost-barrier that keeps his emotions a faintly transparent mystery to the man who is so used to reading him and predicting his every mood. This is, he thinks with the faintest of sly smiles, certainly one reason why he lets his hair grow long. "You just wanted to say hi?"
"Or maybe," Seifer sounds tired all of a sudden -- tired of games, Squall hopes, "maybe, I got into trouble again and got sent up to see you to be punished."
He lays an odd stress on the word, and there's a brief gleam of amusement in his eyes, but they both shake the moment off easily. Squall nods slightly, reaching for a detention form automatically. "What did you do?"
"Someone hit me. I hit back. You really should stand up for yourself once in a while, Leonhart. You're a slave to this job, chained to this desk."
Squall understands, now, how the event and the idea are linked in Seifer's brain. It might even be true -- Seifer might even have a point. But he doesn't have a right to say so, not in Garden, not as an honoured enemy or friendly rival. He doesn't have the right to be so personal. Maybe once, but not now. He threw that away.
"You've been a slave yourself."
Seifer's smile is cool after that reminder, but he doesn't give up. He puts his hand down on Squall's desk -- not dramatic, not over reacting, but making a point. He leans closer, catching Squall's eyes. "Then I know all the better when to break free. You're like water. Following the easiest course. You never get anywhere, that way. You leave your life and you die."
"Like a river running down to the ocean? Life is the river and the ocean death?"
Seifer doesn't seem to catch the derision again in Squall's voice, or maybe he just doesn't care. He nods, slowly. "Just like that, Leonhart. Just like that."
Squall gives him a detention slip. He takes it and leaves, leaving a presence in the room that sets Squall's nerves on edge -- neither himself nor the truth he spoke, but some uncomfortable reminder of both.
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Squall always goes the easy way. For
30_fantasies."Some day, you'll learn to quit going with the flow."
Squall frowns at that, not looking up from the spread of various documents in front of him. Seifer is here to be punished for causing some disturbance in Garden, he's sure, not for a social visit, and so you'd think he could act a little more contrite -- at the least keep quiet until spoken to, and speak politely and impersonally when he does speak. But, Squall thinks, with a tolerant sigh; that's never been Seifer's way. Finally, he signs and sets aside the last form of the pile, and glances up at Seifer. "Did you say something?"
"You heard me."
He has his arms folded in front of him. If Squall goes with the flow -- which he admits to himself, he might well do; whatever's easiest -- Seifer resists it all the way. They could probably both do with changing: but neither will. That's the way of it.
"Right. I did. Why are you here?"
"Maybe I just wanted to say hi."
Squall snorts derisively and looks up at Seifer, his hair tumbling into his eyes and serving as an almost-barrier that keeps his emotions a faintly transparent mystery to the man who is so used to reading him and predicting his every mood. This is, he thinks with the faintest of sly smiles, certainly one reason why he lets his hair grow long. "You just wanted to say hi?"
"Or maybe," Seifer sounds tired all of a sudden -- tired of games, Squall hopes, "maybe, I got into trouble again and got sent up to see you to be punished."
He lays an odd stress on the word, and there's a brief gleam of amusement in his eyes, but they both shake the moment off easily. Squall nods slightly, reaching for a detention form automatically. "What did you do?"
"Someone hit me. I hit back. You really should stand up for yourself once in a while, Leonhart. You're a slave to this job, chained to this desk."
Squall understands, now, how the event and the idea are linked in Seifer's brain. It might even be true -- Seifer might even have a point. But he doesn't have a right to say so, not in Garden, not as an honoured enemy or friendly rival. He doesn't have the right to be so personal. Maybe once, but not now. He threw that away.
"You've been a slave yourself."
Seifer's smile is cool after that reminder, but he doesn't give up. He puts his hand down on Squall's desk -- not dramatic, not over reacting, but making a point. He leans closer, catching Squall's eyes. "Then I know all the better when to break free. You're like water. Following the easiest course. You never get anywhere, that way. You leave your life and you die."
"Like a river running down to the ocean? Life is the river and the ocean death?"
Seifer doesn't seem to catch the derision again in Squall's voice, or maybe he just doesn't care. He nods, slowly. "Just like that, Leonhart. Just like that."
Squall gives him a detention slip. He takes it and leaves, leaving a presence in the room that sets Squall's nerves on edge -- neither himself nor the truth he spoke, but some uncomfortable reminder of both.