Chained to you. | By : Purplepenguin Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 826 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VIII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Chapter 5.
I stared around the empty space where the camp had stood, only a few things were left disregarded by the group. Broken, unwanted equipment. Seifer se dow down on my feet. Still steadying me from behind.
“We’re so screwed.” He whispered.
I was thinking the same. He lifted me back into his arms. “Come on we might be able to use some of this stuff.”
“They wouldn’t have let anything go that worked or wasn’t of use to them.”
“S’okay I’ve always been good at fixing thingke tke this.” He sat me back on a patch of grass near to what looked like the remains of my tent after Seifer had put his foot through it. I watched him set it up, all the pegs going back in the ground, tent standing except for the big hole in the side. The sun was up and shone down on us, the light hit something shinythe the far corner of the site hitting me in a the face. I squinted against the bright reflected light. I leaned to the right to try to and get out of the way of it.
“Seifer?”
“Hmm?” He was trying to fold the material to try and fix it but it didn’t work, the wind always undid his work again.
“What’s that?” He turned to look over his shoulder at me then to look at where I pointed. He winced as it shone in his eyes too.
He got up slowly. “Stay here.” He told me not that I had a choice.
I watched him get closer to the shining object, pulling it out of the ground and lifting it above his head, the light catching it at another angle letting it change shape into… Hyperion.
I heard Seifer laugh.
“What is it?” I asked. “They left Hyperion?”
The de wde walked back a few steps towards me, now wearing his trench coat over his bare torso, gunblade in hand. He threw me a card. “Here read this.”
“This was with your stuff?”
“Our stuff.” He corrected and threw me my gloves a picture that Selphie had taken of me and Seifer fighting over food. I studied the card, it was one of those official seed things. In memory of: typed neatly on the top and our names scribbled under it.
“They think we’re dead.”
Seifer sleuthed his gun blade. “Not everyone.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a potion. “Dead people don’t need these.”
He knelt beside me and held it out. “Now open wide chickie.”
“You take it.”
He paused. “What?”
“There’s not enough to cure me completely, not enough to get me walking but it’ll cure you and then I won’t feel so guilty for you carrying me.”
He hesitated, I pushed the hand holding the bottle away from me.
“Be selfish, you’ve had the practice you know what to do, drink it.”
He gave me a look but he uncorked the vial and downed it. I nodded, pleased when he threw it away. “Better?” I asked.
He nodded. “Much.”
Seifer helped me closer to the tent. “Here you can…try to fix this.”
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