Fragments
Part 1
Author's Notes: My first ever SeiferxSquall. I'm more of a SeiferxZell shipper, but for some reason a Squall-voice found it's way into my head and refused to leave until I wrote this. *shrugs* Just tell me whatcha think,'kay?
Fragments
Part 1
I thought I’d never see you again. Or I never thought I’d see you again. Huh. Is that the same thing, or different, I wonder? Cynical or just pathetic? I suppose it’s both. But I just… I never even knew if you were alive, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted you to be. That’s a lie. I wanted you to be but… was that just too stupid for words?
But here. Even if I ever expected to see you again, in the farthest stretches of my imagination I couldn’t ever have imagined it would be here. Some little diner in Winhill. I mean, maybe pushing through a crowd in Esthar, or hiding with one of the resistance groups in Timber. Not here. In some small town like this. I thought you’d go underground, become part of the crowd.
But you are here. And so am I, and frankly, I don’t know what to do. Pretend I never saw you? Turn you in to the Galbadian Government or half a dozen other agencies who want their hands on you? Go and talk? Hyne, none of the three really make any sense. For one, you’re almost impossible to ignore, and two, I can’t just hand you off like that. And we were never very good at talking.
I see the old woman in the corner eyeing me thoughtfully. Like she knows who I am and who you are, and expects me to pull out my gunblade and lop off your head. Can’t blame her for that. It’s almost been a reflex this past year, just opening up fire whenever you popped into view. But Ultimacia’s dead. And that changes everything.
If you were some random guy who’d been sucked into her scheme, yeah, maybe you’re head would be rolling on the floor right now. But you’re Seifer Almasy. Seifer fucking Almasy, as you used to say. My rival from day one. The scar on my face? You gave that to me. You spurred me on no matter what. You were the one who made me strong. As pitiful as it is, I wouldn’t be me if you hadn’t been there. I’d probably be a third rate gunblader, the quiet one that makes conversation screech to a halt whenever he walks in the room. Instead I’m the Commander of the fucking Garden. A world-class hero. A valiant and Byronic figure, Hyne help me. And like so many other mentors you got left behind. I went up and if anything… you went down. Worse, you got thrown out like yesterday’s garbage. There are so many versions of you that I don’t know who you are anymore. I’m not sure which ‘you’ is sitting at that table right now.
And I don’t… I don’t think I’m up to confronting most of them right now. I don’t know if I can take any more. As strong as everyone thinks I am, in many ways… I’m fragile. You knew that. You always knew that. Way back before all this. You used to take care of me when it became too much, and once I was myself again you’d put the distance back between us. Pick up where the insults and wisecracks had let off. I didn’t understand at first. I didn’t know why you switched back and forth so readily. How sometimes you hated me and sometimes you didn’t.
At some point down the road I did figure it out. Finally. You thought I didn’t want anything more than comfort. That I couldn’t handle anything more. And maybe you were right. Maybe, at first, I couldn’t have. But I was ready for you then. I was ready. So I went to your room, and asked you to let me in. You did. And that room became a sanctuary for me, a place where I could do what I wanted and say what I felt. You laughed sometimes. Said I had a weird sense of humor. Most of what we did there wasn’t funny. It was serious. About as serious as anything can get. But for the first time in my life I realized that serious didn’t necessarily have to be depressing as well. It was just… something not to be taken lightly. Not that I ever took you lightly. Some people did. Thought you were a big hotshot, all talk and attitude. Well, you had the talk, and the attitude, but you could follow it up with the real deal as well.
What am I thinking about? How did I start at point A and wind up digging so deep? I was trying to decide about you.
Rinoa is the one who saves me now. Saves me from myself. Knows when my moods are just a shade too dark and snaps me out of them. That used to be your job. But where you used sex and violence she uses chatter and laughter. On the surface, it works, yeah, but it’s nowhere near as gratifying. She can’t wind me up the way you could. Selphie and her drive me half out my mind sometimes, with their talking and giggling, their conversations about the latest pop stars and fashions and other crap like that that. It makes me want to put Lionheart to my head and pull the trigger.
Quistis knows when I’ve reached that particular brink, thank Hyne, and gently interrupts, claiming there’s work for me in my office. Don’t know what I’d do without her. Probably go through with that aforementioned suicide. Though she can go overboard too, telling me I’m working too hard. And she still flirts. But I can act as oblivious as ever.
Zell and Irvine are… they’re my friends. Zell was before, sort of, but now we actually do things together. We do ‘guy things’ together, the three of us. Watch movies, raid Irvine’s whiskey stash, play poker. It’s fun. And Hyne, but isn’t the idea of me finding anything fun ludicrous?
I see Ellone from time to time as well. It’s… nice. Weird, but nice. She’s changed but still the same. Kind of like all of us, I suppose. And Laguna… he’s my father, did you hear about that? He’s insane, by the way. But in as nice as way as that could be taken.
So that’s all of us, really. But I don’t know what’s going on with you, what’s going through your head. I used to be able to tell. Oh, there were blips on the radar screen sometimes, where I wasn’t totally certain. But most of the time, I knew. And a lot of things I still know. Things like that spot behind your right ear. Or the way your eyes were always drawn to the wildflowers on the side of the road whenever we went on SeeD training. You’d stare at them, inexplicably drawn, and you were never quite sure why. Memories are a funny thing. Memories you’d all but forgotten. I can’t even blame you for that. You had used GF’s far longer than any other one of us. Truthfully, I’m doubtful you remember we were ever together at all.
But the way your eyes falter when they meet mine just now… Is that what you would have done if the wildflowers had looked back?
Is that all that’s left of me? A tentative feeling, a ‘maybe’? Now… now I’m just a few fragments of remembrance that flit through your dreams. Something you can’t even remember once you wake up. If I went over to you, I’m sure you would know my face. And my name. But would you know my name if it fell from your lips? Would you remember all the different ways it could fall, desperate or angry or needy or amused, always full of some sort of emotion? What I loved most about you, Seifer, was that you were never cold like me. You’ve been pissed off at me before, or angry, or hurt at something I did, but you would never shut down. You wore your pain where everyone could see it, even if they didn’t understand exactly what it was.
I see you sitting there, and the only thing I want to do is walk over. Get a closer look. Have you kiss me. Have you insult me. Have you fight me. Just let you have me. Let me have you.
But back to the original question. What to do with you. Whether there was still room for you in my life. I guess I answered that pretty damn neatly, didn’t I? There’s still room. Because no one could ever possibly take your place.
This means breaking the tentative hold Rinoa still hopes to have on me. This means putting up with Zell’s protests, Quistis’ quiet questions, Irvine’s skeptical looks. Selphie would probably be happy to see you back, actually. Even after you blew up her precious Garden. She’s a forgive and forget kind of girl. But it wouldn’t matter if they all disapproved, if they gave ultimatums. Because there is only one Seifer in this world. If I had too, I could find another Quistis. A Zell, an Irvine, a Selphie. I could find another sassy, intelligent girl to keep me from committing occupational suicide. A hyperactive guy who tends to annoy me and a womanizer who can drink me under the table. I can find another teenager hyped up on soda and rave music. I can find a Rinoa too. I could find their twins, their triplets. Or you could say I don’t really need them at all. As long as I have you.
You see what you do to me? In the space of five minutes I’ve gone from wondering whether I should pretend I ever saw you to running away with you, from everything and everyone I know. You always had that dizzying affect.
I’m yours, Seifer. I have been. But now I’ve got to convince you of it.
I walk over to the table, closing the distance between us and running one gloved thumb over your bottom lip. You’re confused; I can see it your eyes. One part of you is screaming ‘Why is he doing this?’ and the other part knows exactly why. Part of you recognizes it, doesn’t it? Some part of you recognizes the feel of my glove across your face, the smell of leather and the gunpowder I put in Lionheart. But I don’t think you like to listen to that part.
For now though, I can wait. I’m pretty patient. You aren’t though, and soon enough you’ll want answers to your questions. I’ll explain as best I can. I’ll tell you about the few memories I have still intact, and share the fragments and pieces as well. I’ll tell you about that scar on your back that you wouldn’t let Dr. Kadowaki heal, and not because you got it in some illicit barroom brawl like rumor says. Because it was the first day I ever put a mark on you, the first day anyone ever put a mark on you. You left it to remind you. You always liked reminders. Physical, tangible things. Like those wildflowers.
I’ve bet you noticed by now that you can’t keep your hands still. So you draw instead. On whatever is around. You used to sketch all over you homework and then not turn it in, because you didn’t want anyone to see the faces you sketched and ask about them, because you didn’t know who they were either. Are you still like that, Seifer? Do you catch someone’s eye in a crowd, see a girl flip her hair over her shoulder, and your mouth starts to form a name… but then it is gone. Because those eyes are in the wrong face, or the girl’s hair is too long or too short. And you don’t remember what you were going to say.
But you remember my name, don’t you? Tell me, please tell me you remember that much.
“Squall?”
Yeah. That’s my name. And the way you said it tells me things. Tells me more than you know right now.