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Entry tags:
FFVIII: Blame
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Seifer/Squall
Warnings: Sap
Rating: PG
Summary: Thoughts Squall doesn't want to examine. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
darkranger, for Christmas.
"I heard about Rinoa. Squall, I... I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. It wasn't going anywhere anyway."
"She's a lovely girl."
"Whatever."
"I am sorry."
"What are you? A broken record? Get out of here, Almasy. Your first class is at fifteen hundred."
"Squall -- "
"I'm busy."
---
Squall watches the dancers with only the faintest hint of interest. He leans against the pillar, half expecting Rinoa to step out of the crowd and come towards him in all her delicate beauty, smiling at him, smiling, smiling. He's not sure if he'd like that or not -- and anyway, he thinks, shaking his head as if to shake away the idea, it's no use thinking about it. Rinoa made it quite clear how she felt about everything.
He can see Seifer, dancing with a dark-haired girl he passed the exam with. It makes Squall smile, just a little -- the idea of Seifer finally passing the exam. It used to be unheard of, unthinkable; everybody knew that they never even bothered trying to grade Seifer's performance.
Squall closes his eyes. Things change. People change. Seifer apologised to him, when he returned to Garden. Stood in his office, awkward and proud but sincere, and apologised -- for what he did in the war, for things he had nothing to do with, and he'd seemed surprised when Squall didn't seem to care. The look on his face... it makes Squall smile to think of it.
Seifer's changed, but he has, too.
"Here," Seifer says -- speak of the devil -- and Squall opens his eyes and reaches out in time for Seifer to put the glass of wine into his hand. He lifts it up, watching the shift of light on its red, watching the reflected images of the whirling dancers. He takes a tiny sip and decides that this is better stuff than what they had for his graduation ball.
"Congratulations," he says, over the sound of Waltz for the Moon.
"You've already said that."
"In a professional capacity." He shrugs slightly, takes another sip of his wine. "I never did think you'd pass, even now."
"It was my last chance," Seifer says, shrugging. "Suddenly, working hard seemed a lot more worth it."
"Whatever."
"Still haven't expanded your vocabulary?" he asks, not expecting an answer. For a moment, they both watch the dancers, and then Seifer takes Squall's glass as well as his own and hands them to someone collecting them, turning slightly. "Dance with me? It's been a while since we were paired together in that class, but..."
"You know I hate dancing."
"All the more reason to ask you to," Seifer says, smirking, taking his hand. "Or are you scared you might actually enjoy it?"
Squall glares at him. Seifer smirks a little more and steps back, tugging him along, tugging him closer and almost into his arms. It's not Waltz for the Moon, now. Squall would've walked off the dancefloor if it was -- the irony would've been too much for him. It's something else, lighter, quicker, and Squall moves into the rhythm far more easily.
He isn't sure if that's down to the music, the dance itself, or his partner.
He has a feeling he doesn't want to examine that thought too much.
---
His room hasn't seemed quite so empty in a while. Not since Rinoa left, anyway. She'd been most thorough about that -- perhaps to make certain the point struck home, or perhaps just so she didn't have to come back, to look into his eyes again, after she'd left him. She hadn't even had the guts to say it to his face -- had left a note. She thought her leaving would trouble him as Ellone's once had, maybe.
He doesn't know why, but it didn't. Oh, it troubled him. It bit deep. But... not as deep as it could've. Maybe he'd been expecting it.
Maybe he always expects people to leave him, these days.
The knock on the door isn't entirely unexpected and Squall rolls off the bed and gets to his feet, already knowing it's Seifer. The bottle of wine is an almost unexpected addition, and the look on Seifer's face definitely wasn't anticipated -- his smile almost shy and his expression soft, relaxed, the smirk fallen away and left behind, perhaps under their feet on the dancefloor. Squall sighs.
"You'd better not be planning on getting me drunk."
"Nope," Seifer says, stepping inside and letting the door close behind him. He gets the cork out of the bottle with the aid of the knife and takes a long drink before he hands it to Squall. "I'm just hoping it might ease the way into your pants just a little."
Squall takes a drink, just so he has a reason to look away from Seifer with his ever-so-distracting smile. "I'm not sleeping with you."
"We'll see."
Squall holds back on the urge to punch Seifer in the face, just because that's too much of a reaction to waste on him. He goes and sits down on the bed with the wine and lets Seifer sit next to him. Might as well not waste the wine, after all.
"Squall," Seifer says, quietly, when they've both got enough wine in them to be relaxed, and when a flush has bled into his cheeks and he looks younger, vulnerable. "Back before -- you know. Back then, I wanted to do this with you sometimes, but I was a fucking idiot. Wouldn't swallow my pride to say I wanted the company, I mean. So. Uh. Forgive me?"
"Are you confessing your love to me?" Squall asks, half teasing, half really believing he might be.
Still, he doesn't expect Seifer to flush that little bit more and he doesn't expect the kiss that follows, but he melts into it just as if he did.
He'd like to blame the wine for that.
---
Squall isn't sure how he expected to wake up. To Seifer's arm around him, maybe. That seemed Seifer's style, from all the cuddling the night before and the fact that they actually passed the night fully dressed and without molesting each other even a little. He sits up and tries to tell himself he doesn't feel sad that Seifer isn't there.
He doesn't have to try convincing himself for long.
"Hey, baby," Seifer says, with a smirk, coming out of the bathroom wearing just a towel and with his hair all wet. Squall knows that Seifer knows that he thought he'd left. He's not quite sure how he feels about that.
No -- he is. He grabs his pillow and launches it at Seifer, smirking when it hits his chest with a thump. And he smiles when Seifer comes over to him and kisses him, even if Seifer's still damp and the wetness soaks through his t-shirt. And he keeps smiling when Seifer pulls away.
And he really can't blame anything but his own heart for that.
Pairing: Seifer/Squall
Warnings: Sap
Rating: PG
Summary: Thoughts Squall doesn't want to examine. For
darkranger, for Christmas."I heard about Rinoa. Squall, I... I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. It wasn't going anywhere anyway."
"She's a lovely girl."
"Whatever."
"I am sorry."
"What are you? A broken record? Get out of here, Almasy. Your first class is at fifteen hundred."
"Squall -- "
"I'm busy."
Squall watches the dancers with only the faintest hint of interest. He leans against the pillar, half expecting Rinoa to step out of the crowd and come towards him in all her delicate beauty, smiling at him, smiling, smiling. He's not sure if he'd like that or not -- and anyway, he thinks, shaking his head as if to shake away the idea, it's no use thinking about it. Rinoa made it quite clear how she felt about everything.
He can see Seifer, dancing with a dark-haired girl he passed the exam with. It makes Squall smile, just a little -- the idea of Seifer finally passing the exam. It used to be unheard of, unthinkable; everybody knew that they never even bothered trying to grade Seifer's performance.
Squall closes his eyes. Things change. People change. Seifer apologised to him, when he returned to Garden. Stood in his office, awkward and proud but sincere, and apologised -- for what he did in the war, for things he had nothing to do with, and he'd seemed surprised when Squall didn't seem to care. The look on his face... it makes Squall smile to think of it.
Seifer's changed, but he has, too.
"Here," Seifer says -- speak of the devil -- and Squall opens his eyes and reaches out in time for Seifer to put the glass of wine into his hand. He lifts it up, watching the shift of light on its red, watching the reflected images of the whirling dancers. He takes a tiny sip and decides that this is better stuff than what they had for his graduation ball.
"Congratulations," he says, over the sound of Waltz for the Moon.
"You've already said that."
"In a professional capacity." He shrugs slightly, takes another sip of his wine. "I never did think you'd pass, even now."
"It was my last chance," Seifer says, shrugging. "Suddenly, working hard seemed a lot more worth it."
"Whatever."
"Still haven't expanded your vocabulary?" he asks, not expecting an answer. For a moment, they both watch the dancers, and then Seifer takes Squall's glass as well as his own and hands them to someone collecting them, turning slightly. "Dance with me? It's been a while since we were paired together in that class, but..."
"You know I hate dancing."
"All the more reason to ask you to," Seifer says, smirking, taking his hand. "Or are you scared you might actually enjoy it?"
Squall glares at him. Seifer smirks a little more and steps back, tugging him along, tugging him closer and almost into his arms. It's not Waltz for the Moon, now. Squall would've walked off the dancefloor if it was -- the irony would've been too much for him. It's something else, lighter, quicker, and Squall moves into the rhythm far more easily.
He isn't sure if that's down to the music, the dance itself, or his partner.
He has a feeling he doesn't want to examine that thought too much.
His room hasn't seemed quite so empty in a while. Not since Rinoa left, anyway. She'd been most thorough about that -- perhaps to make certain the point struck home, or perhaps just so she didn't have to come back, to look into his eyes again, after she'd left him. She hadn't even had the guts to say it to his face -- had left a note. She thought her leaving would trouble him as Ellone's once had, maybe.
He doesn't know why, but it didn't. Oh, it troubled him. It bit deep. But... not as deep as it could've. Maybe he'd been expecting it.
Maybe he always expects people to leave him, these days.
The knock on the door isn't entirely unexpected and Squall rolls off the bed and gets to his feet, already knowing it's Seifer. The bottle of wine is an almost unexpected addition, and the look on Seifer's face definitely wasn't anticipated -- his smile almost shy and his expression soft, relaxed, the smirk fallen away and left behind, perhaps under their feet on the dancefloor. Squall sighs.
"You'd better not be planning on getting me drunk."
"Nope," Seifer says, stepping inside and letting the door close behind him. He gets the cork out of the bottle with the aid of the knife and takes a long drink before he hands it to Squall. "I'm just hoping it might ease the way into your pants just a little."
Squall takes a drink, just so he has a reason to look away from Seifer with his ever-so-distracting smile. "I'm not sleeping with you."
"We'll see."
Squall holds back on the urge to punch Seifer in the face, just because that's too much of a reaction to waste on him. He goes and sits down on the bed with the wine and lets Seifer sit next to him. Might as well not waste the wine, after all.
"Squall," Seifer says, quietly, when they've both got enough wine in them to be relaxed, and when a flush has bled into his cheeks and he looks younger, vulnerable. "Back before -- you know. Back then, I wanted to do this with you sometimes, but I was a fucking idiot. Wouldn't swallow my pride to say I wanted the company, I mean. So. Uh. Forgive me?"
"Are you confessing your love to me?" Squall asks, half teasing, half really believing he might be.
Still, he doesn't expect Seifer to flush that little bit more and he doesn't expect the kiss that follows, but he melts into it just as if he did.
He'd like to blame the wine for that.
Squall isn't sure how he expected to wake up. To Seifer's arm around him, maybe. That seemed Seifer's style, from all the cuddling the night before and the fact that they actually passed the night fully dressed and without molesting each other even a little. He sits up and tries to tell himself he doesn't feel sad that Seifer isn't there.
He doesn't have to try convincing himself for long.
"Hey, baby," Seifer says, with a smirk, coming out of the bathroom wearing just a towel and with his hair all wet. Squall knows that Seifer knows that he thought he'd left. He's not quite sure how he feels about that.
No -- he is. He grabs his pillow and launches it at Seifer, smirking when it hits his chest with a thump. And he smiles when Seifer comes over to him and kisses him, even if Seifer's still damp and the wetness soaks through his t-shirt. And he keeps smiling when Seifer pulls away.
And he really can't blame anything but his own heart for that.
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