Author: iliyana PM
Seifer considers the recents changes in Squall and their relationship. SeiferxSquall, minor AU, sappy.Rated: Fiction K - English - Romance/Spiritual - Words: 405 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 3 - Published: 04-05-05 - Status: Complete - id: 2338002
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: All of Final Fantasy 8 belongs to the demigods at Square Enix and Sony and it makes me sad.
Set in an alternate timeline where none of them ever left the orphanage.
Companion piece to BrightSpark's fic "Warm". (Which I suggest you go read, ohyes :3)
Warning: here there be love between two boys, in this case Seifer and Squall. Don't like, don't read. ;D
He used to be so cold, living in his own little world, minding his own business and never even blinking as life, or even the world passed by him.
Girls could fawn over him all they wanted, he'd shrug it off and move along. Close-minded morons could try to beat him up; he'd find a way out, either by force or simple lack of caring, and move along. You could annoy him, kick him, tease him, downright humiliate him and most you'd get would be a short, cold glance and a view of his backside as he walked away.
Imagine how proud I was when I got him to tell me to piss off. A few simple remarks and I had him fuming, or as close to fuming as he'd get. Imagine the thrill I felt when he finally started paying attention to me again for the first time since we were children, even if it was just conscious staying out of my way or telling me to fuck off.
Picture the ecstasy when I kissed him and he didn't push me away, but answered in kind. Try to think of the most exhilarating thing that ever occurred to you and take that in tenfold, then you might be getting close. Imagine the thrill I felt when he paid more attention to me than ever before, focused more on me than on anyone else, sneaking furtive kisses between classes, dropping my head into his lap after my daily dose of detention, pressing him down into the sand and taking his breath away...
His skin is the only thing still cold to my touch now and even that heats up, however briefly, as I run my hands over it, as I follow the line of his almost too pronounced hip and draw spirals and swirls on his ribs like he does in the sand.
One day, he'll be warm, he'll be radiant and I'll know he's mine.