Sunset | By : Pixxit Category: Final Fantasy VIII > General Views: 570 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
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. |
Sunset
SeiferxSquall
He has no idea what he does to me. Three years into an exclusive relationship
and a childhood together still hasn’t given away my real feelings for him. Squall analyzes things, but only to the
extent necessary to understand his own feelings on the subject. Once he understands how he feels, he ceases to think about the situation further. I’ll give you an example:
I knew he was going to be something special to me when I was
eight years old. Didn’t stop me from
tormenting him at every turn, but hell, I was a cocky little bastard, even way
back then. I would watch him, watching
me when Quistis and Irvine
roped me into playing house – wanting to join in so badly, but keeping his
distance with a stoic determination that other seven-year-olds just didn’t possess. ‘Watch
me, Squall. Look at how good I am at
being the man of the house’. Didn’t
matter that the ‘house’ we played in was nothing more than a sheet thrown over
a clothesline, held into place by rocks that Irvine found along the cliffs; all
that mattered that we were a family, and I was the one in charge. I was eight years old and I knew, without
hesitation, that someday I’d play this game again and when I did, it would be
Squall who filled Quistis’ role.
He pretended not to notice.
Or, more likely, he didn’t
notice and just did what he did best:
turned all that introspective thought in on himself
and tried to forget I existed.
When I was fifteen, I did everything in my power to best
him. I wanted everyone to know that I
was the better merc, the better swordsman, the better
man. I realize that this makes me sound
like a first class prick, but I had my reasons.
How was I to convince Squall that I’d make an excellent husband if I
didn’t prove myself to him firsthand?
When I was seventeen, and it became apparent that his emotions
were indeed locked in that igloo inside his mind, I decided that my all my hard
work was obviously going unnoticed and unappreciated. It was time to draw a line in the sand. Since there is no sand in the showers,
however, I settled on rushing him while he was still rinsing shampoo from his
hair. I pushed him against the shower
wall, ignoring – no, reveling – in his little yelp of surprise, and gave him
his first kiss. He didn’t seem at all
appreciative and he swung on me, cursing and spitting like an angry tomcat. After a few hissed curses whereupon he
disparaged my future family line, he grabbed his towel and stalked out of the
showers, so perfect in his indignant self-righteousness. I laughed my ass off, ignoring the odd looks
I got from the other guys drifting past.
He hadn’t even given me a chance to tell him that it was my first kiss,
too.
You all know the events that took place right after that and
I am still, to this day, afraid that I haven’t done my penance for it. I remember promising Squall that, one day,
I’d tell him about my romantic dream. I
only said that to keep him on edge, keep him guessing – I’d planned on doing a
whole lot more than telling him about
my dream the night we made SeeD.
Only, that didn’t happen.
Not for me, anyway. The path I’d carefully
planned for myself took a wrong turn fast once the lady Ultimcecia
made her presence known. Don’t worry, I’m not going to get all maudlin about bad history I
can’t change. Hell, to this day I don’t
remember much of it. I’ve gathered bits
and pieces from other people though, and I can honestly say I don’t want to
know. All I cared about, from the minute
I came back to myself, was getting to Squall and making sure he was okay.
Needless to say, he was a little put out with me, but after
oh, six, seven months of my constant hovering, he began to let me in. That’s when I began to notice how closely he
seemed to be examining his own feelings.
I’m certain no one noticed this but me, but even if they did, I’m going
to pretend otherwise. I like to think I
know him best.
When I was nineteen, I tried for that next kiss. This time, he let me have it, even went so
far as to kiss me back. Figures that the
very moment he’d stop worrying over what we were to each other, I’d start. We were together, whatever that meant. That is to say, we’d graduated on to much
more interesting pursuits than just kissing.
We were in love and we both knew it.
We didn’t say it, though. That
came later. When I finally did tell him,
he just offered me that shy, sweet smile and told me he knew that. Then he tacked an adoring ‘dumbass’ onto to that sentence just to keep my smugness at
a tolerable level.
I’m twenty-two now and things are different between us. Oh, he still goes all Shivatastic
on me when I piss him off and he still has plenty of silent conversations with
himself when he doesn’t want to talk.
The big difference now is that he knows that I love him. What I’m not so sure about is whether or not
he knows just how much.
I love the way he looks at me when he wakes up in the
morning, like he’s surprised to see me there.
I love his shy smile and the way he still blushes when he looks up from
whatever he’s doing to find me staring at him.
I love the way moves against me, right into my arms, when I reach for
him and it’s never a struggle for who’s going to give in first.
I love that I can cook for him and light candles and smile
like a big dope while I wait for him to come home - and not feel stupid about
it. I also really love the rings I
bought for us – I don’t like to brag, but I really do have exquisite
taste. It’s only taken me fourteen
years, but I’m ready to tell him everything I want him to know. I’m ready to tell him about my romantic
dream.
Outside, the sun is setting.
Only a few minutes more and I can start talking - as soon as my lion
walks through that door.
~fin~
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