|Melting the Ice
Author: squall almasy27 PM
It's 2 years after the game. Rinoa left Squall. Squall is left broken to pick up himself while trying to fake that eveything is okay when its not. Who could save him from himself? SxSRated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Angst - Seifer A. & Squall L. - Chapters: 7 - Words: 10,558 - Reviews: 26 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 4 - Updated: 12-21-04 - Published: 12-25-03 - id: 1656047
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Final Fantasy 8 characters.
Chapter I: Dreams
There is only darkness. The gray earth is cracked despite the abundance of rain. He stands there in the middle, dark brown hair plastering onto his face while sweat and rainwater dances on his skin. A sort of defeat washes over him and his feet drags his knees onto the ground. The pain does not bother him but the tears come anyway to stream down on his face, mocking at the façade he has put up so far. He closes his eyes and accepts the loneliness.
The white static sound of the rain and the biting cold of the wind do not prepare him for the sudden, feather-like warmth that touches his face. Puffy, grey eyes meet the color of glinting emerald and golden wheat fields. He can barely dig out his voice as the man before him smirks.
No words are exchanged, only a silence understood between the two after the long years of rivalry. Seifer stands up from his kneeling position as the rain dies down, extending an arm to the brunette. "I'm not going anywhere," he says, still reaching out as the other looks at it hesitantly before taking his hand…
A twitch of his arm wakes Squall up. Sweat rolls from his forehead as he turns to look at the time with a blurry red glare of 3:43 AM written on the mechanical clock. A groan escapes his lips, knowing that sleep will not come to him anymore. He stands up, his eyes already accustomed to the dark, and moves into the bathroom to shed his clothes off and shower. He does not bother to make the water warm and bathes quickly, the biting cold of the water sliding down his ivory skin and trailing down the scar between his eyes.
He slips on into his usual clothes – white shirt, bomber jacket, leather pants – and brings along Lionheart to accompany him as he steps outside his room in hopes to chase away the bitter taste that came in with the morning.
A/N: After years and years of neglecting this, I decided to try and edit everything while not barfing at what I've written so far. Bear with me.