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Entry tags:
FFVIII: Redemption
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Seifer/Squall
Warnings: Seifer POV, angst, sap
Rating: PG13
Summary: The biggest gift for a man who went down.
Redemption. It's a saving word, a word a man might cling to when he's going down - one of those words like hope or peace. Idealistic, intended for those who don't know any better. I know better. I know a hell of a lot better and I know that when it comes down to it, there is no 'redemption'. Or so I keep telling myself, but a part of me hopes differently. That part of me, I guess, reserved for 'romantic dreams' and the like. The undying, 'hope springs eternal' part of me.
The part of me that has always loved Squall Leonhart.
I have sinned unbelievably, and not entirely unknowingly. And yet all I wanted was for him to step in and stop me, save me, and pay attention to me. Not to work, not to some wimpy girl, but to me, his rival, and someone who wanted to be his lover. I thought I would be. I was everything else. Everything I did -- it was, and I admit it now, just to make them all look at me, see how much I could've been, how much I was.
Standing before him, my head bowed in defeat as it never was before, I wonder why the hell I thought any of that crap. Why I wanted this perfect icicle of a man to be mine. But I know the answer. I know that he's not as cold as he looks, and I know, too, that I hoped to show that to others. How arrogant. How romantic. I have nothing but mocking for those past desires of mine - for that is all they were. They would not have come true, no matter what. I don't think Squall and I could build that kind of relationship.
And so I stand in front of Squall, and I wait, praying for redemption. Not being let off the hook, but for forgiveness. From the one person who matters to me. From this man, the only one who can truly save me. I need, I crave his understanding.
"Seifer," he says quietly, and in that naming he holds me, keeps me still and silent before him. I dread his questions, what he will say, and how I will answer.
But, thankfully, there are no questions. And I wonder why I thought there would be - Squall Leonhart makes his own judgements based on his own eyes. He probably doesn't even need to hear me say it to know why I did it.
And still I cling to the romantic dream, my hope of redemption.
And I desire him, the greyness of his eyes a smouldering smoke that could burn through me if he let me close enough. A fire that I truly would not mind burning in. I desire the redemption he could give me - a criminal in the arms of a hero - and I desire the final fulfillment of all my dreams. That, Squall and redemption, or death by his hand and redemption. Either way, he's the only one who can do that for me.
"Seifer," he repeats it softly, and now his eyes urge me to answer.
"Squall," I say dully, just to grant him his wish.
He stands, comes over to me, standing an arm's distance away. He speaks after a moment, his eyes searching my face carefully. "I don't know why you did it. But I know you - and you had some damn good reason. And it wasn't all you. You would never have..." he stumbles, reluctant and I take a slight step back, threatened by his closeness. After all, no matter how much I want or desire him, we have spent the last few weeks? -- months? how long was it, I can't remember -- trying to kill each other. "You would never have hurt me," he says, almost hesitantly, very softly.
I stiffen as he reaches out, a hand gripping my arm tightly. "I'm right, aren't I," he says, not a question but a statement of fact and he knows and I know it, so all I can do is nod.
"I didn't want to hurt you," he continues.
"I don't deserve your mercy, Leonhart. Kill me now," I say, and my voice is rough, grating over the sounds. He ignores me.
I stare at him silently as he becomes bolder, a hand reaching up, his fingers sliding over my jaw. "You're not proud or arrogant anymore, are you, Seifer?"
It takes me a long moment to realise that it isn't a rhetorical question and he actually wants an answer. My tongue is heavy, reluctant. "I can't afford to be defiant anymore."
"It's a pity it took this much to humble you," He whispers, and then his body is against mine, his lips against mine. It's redemption and yet at the same time it's hellfire, guilt surfacing and every nerve thrilling with his touch, half delighted, half reminding me that I hurt him.
"Squall," I speak softly and the naming is both a plea and a protest. I don't deserve this after what I did. This is what I set out to get, but after the methods I used, I don't deserve it.
"Shut up," he tells me softly, his lips brushing along my jaw, "I know why you did it and I love you too. Now let me get you out of this mess."
And for once, I don't mind being in debt to him. Redemption is the biggest gift he could ever give me, along with his love, and he gave me both at the same time. Forgave my twisted reasons and gave me a saving reason never to do it again. God, how I love him. A hero and a saviour in truth. A fool. And me the fool that would have destroyed the earth for him if that would get me his love and admiration, only to find out that I never needed to.
Pairing: Seifer/Squall
Warnings: Seifer POV, angst, sap
Rating: PG13
Summary: The biggest gift for a man who went down.
Redemption. It's a saving word, a word a man might cling to when he's going down - one of those words like hope or peace. Idealistic, intended for those who don't know any better. I know better. I know a hell of a lot better and I know that when it comes down to it, there is no 'redemption'. Or so I keep telling myself, but a part of me hopes differently. That part of me, I guess, reserved for 'romantic dreams' and the like. The undying, 'hope springs eternal' part of me.
The part of me that has always loved Squall Leonhart.
I have sinned unbelievably, and not entirely unknowingly. And yet all I wanted was for him to step in and stop me, save me, and pay attention to me. Not to work, not to some wimpy girl, but to me, his rival, and someone who wanted to be his lover. I thought I would be. I was everything else. Everything I did -- it was, and I admit it now, just to make them all look at me, see how much I could've been, how much I was.
Standing before him, my head bowed in defeat as it never was before, I wonder why the hell I thought any of that crap. Why I wanted this perfect icicle of a man to be mine. But I know the answer. I know that he's not as cold as he looks, and I know, too, that I hoped to show that to others. How arrogant. How romantic. I have nothing but mocking for those past desires of mine - for that is all they were. They would not have come true, no matter what. I don't think Squall and I could build that kind of relationship.
And so I stand in front of Squall, and I wait, praying for redemption. Not being let off the hook, but for forgiveness. From the one person who matters to me. From this man, the only one who can truly save me. I need, I crave his understanding.
"Seifer," he says quietly, and in that naming he holds me, keeps me still and silent before him. I dread his questions, what he will say, and how I will answer.
But, thankfully, there are no questions. And I wonder why I thought there would be - Squall Leonhart makes his own judgements based on his own eyes. He probably doesn't even need to hear me say it to know why I did it.
And still I cling to the romantic dream, my hope of redemption.
And I desire him, the greyness of his eyes a smouldering smoke that could burn through me if he let me close enough. A fire that I truly would not mind burning in. I desire the redemption he could give me - a criminal in the arms of a hero - and I desire the final fulfillment of all my dreams. That, Squall and redemption, or death by his hand and redemption. Either way, he's the only one who can do that for me.
"Seifer," he repeats it softly, and now his eyes urge me to answer.
"Squall," I say dully, just to grant him his wish.
He stands, comes over to me, standing an arm's distance away. He speaks after a moment, his eyes searching my face carefully. "I don't know why you did it. But I know you - and you had some damn good reason. And it wasn't all you. You would never have..." he stumbles, reluctant and I take a slight step back, threatened by his closeness. After all, no matter how much I want or desire him, we have spent the last few weeks? -- months? how long was it, I can't remember -- trying to kill each other. "You would never have hurt me," he says, almost hesitantly, very softly.
I stiffen as he reaches out, a hand gripping my arm tightly. "I'm right, aren't I," he says, not a question but a statement of fact and he knows and I know it, so all I can do is nod.
"I didn't want to hurt you," he continues.
"I don't deserve your mercy, Leonhart. Kill me now," I say, and my voice is rough, grating over the sounds. He ignores me.
I stare at him silently as he becomes bolder, a hand reaching up, his fingers sliding over my jaw. "You're not proud or arrogant anymore, are you, Seifer?"
It takes me a long moment to realise that it isn't a rhetorical question and he actually wants an answer. My tongue is heavy, reluctant. "I can't afford to be defiant anymore."
"It's a pity it took this much to humble you," He whispers, and then his body is against mine, his lips against mine. It's redemption and yet at the same time it's hellfire, guilt surfacing and every nerve thrilling with his touch, half delighted, half reminding me that I hurt him.
"Squall," I speak softly and the naming is both a plea and a protest. I don't deserve this after what I did. This is what I set out to get, but after the methods I used, I don't deserve it.
"Shut up," he tells me softly, his lips brushing along my jaw, "I know why you did it and I love you too. Now let me get you out of this mess."
And for once, I don't mind being in debt to him. Redemption is the biggest gift he could ever give me, along with his love, and he gave me both at the same time. Forgave my twisted reasons and gave me a saving reason never to do it again. God, how I love him. A hero and a saviour in truth. A fool. And me the fool that would have destroyed the earth for him if that would get me his love and admiration, only to find out that I never needed to.