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Entry tags:
FFVIII: Proximity (3)
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Squall/Fujin, Seifer/Fujin
Warnings: Angst, deathfic
Chapter: Three
Rating: G
Summary: They finally hear news of Seifer. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fated_children.
Fujin is up before Squall has even registered what was said, her face chalk pale and her fists clenched. "No," she whispers, just when he'd've expected a return to her old manner of speaking. Raijin gulps down his drink, not looking at anyone, and Squall takes Fujin's arm, gently leading her outside.
He puts an arm around her shoulders, but she doesn't respond. After a moment, he pulls back, uncomfortable with the sign of affection in any case.
"It can't be true," she says, softly. Squall squeezes her shoulder gently. He half expects her to cry, but she doesn't: her expression is stony. "I suppose you'll count your part done now?"
"My leave is over," he says, not in answer.
"We'll retrieve his body."
"I'll be at the funeral."
"Fine."
She crosses her arms in front of her chest -- and whether she's defying the truth or simply holding herself together, Squall can't be sure. He bites his lip, and watches her -- to some extent wanting the comfort of the warmth indoors and the last of his drink, but more than that, wanting the comfort of knowing she'll be alright. Finally, he understands something.
"You loved him."
"Shut up," she says, fragile. She doesn't say yes. Not in words.
"Be careful."
"Shut up," she says, again. He kisses her -- once, twice, quick and soft, and hopes that's some comfort rather than a reminder of what she'll never have. He turns to go inside, to his drink, leaving her to her grief -- the soonest expressed, the soonest over.
Pairing: Squall/Fujin, Seifer/Fujin
Warnings: Angst, deathfic
Chapter: Three
Rating: G
Summary: They finally hear news of Seifer. For
fated_children.Fujin is up before Squall has even registered what was said, her face chalk pale and her fists clenched. "No," she whispers, just when he'd've expected a return to her old manner of speaking. Raijin gulps down his drink, not looking at anyone, and Squall takes Fujin's arm, gently leading her outside.
He puts an arm around her shoulders, but she doesn't respond. After a moment, he pulls back, uncomfortable with the sign of affection in any case.
"It can't be true," she says, softly. Squall squeezes her shoulder gently. He half expects her to cry, but she doesn't: her expression is stony. "I suppose you'll count your part done now?"
"My leave is over," he says, not in answer.
"We'll retrieve his body."
"I'll be at the funeral."
"Fine."
She crosses her arms in front of her chest -- and whether she's defying the truth or simply holding herself together, Squall can't be sure. He bites his lip, and watches her -- to some extent wanting the comfort of the warmth indoors and the last of his drink, but more than that, wanting the comfort of knowing she'll be alright. Finally, he understands something.
"You loved him."
"Shut up," she says, fragile. She doesn't say yes. Not in words.
"Be careful."
"Shut up," she says, again. He kisses her -- once, twice, quick and soft, and hopes that's some comfort rather than a reminder of what she'll never have. He turns to go inside, to his drink, leaving her to her grief -- the soonest expressed, the soonest over.