Remarks: I would like to thank two ladies.Margie Rose, for encouraging me, and Jane Austen, for inspiring me. The premise of this fiction is inspired by Jane Austen's Persuasion.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; they belong to Squaresoft.

Nothing to Lose By Crysty


I look across the train car, scowling at him. "We're going back. NOW."

He looks at me with a determination that is all too familiar. He will tell me down now, and dismiss my authority.

I hate it when he does that. Before he can even speak, I interrupt. "Don't even start on me. If you can't give me one good reason why I should let you stay, why I let you go this far..."

For a second, his eyes focus intensely into space, as if he was looking deep within himself. What he found apparently was not very interesting, for he flippantly answered with a smirk, "Love."

Don't tell me he was interested in the brunette too. Blondes so do not get all the fun.

"We're going back. Now."

As I went towards the door of the car, the train started moving, and Seifer smirked.

"I can tell the conductor to stop."

"You won't, though."

"How do you know?" I say derisively.

"You're too curious as to what I'm doing, who it is that I'm doing it for, and why. Don't worry, Quistis. You're still my number one girl," he winks.

I slouch back in my seat and turn to look out the window. I do not deign to reply.

It makes no sense, but my heart has been pounding since he said "love". Seifer Almasy? In Love?

You're still my number one.

Such a lie. I scowl at him.

But love? The thought is as disturbing as that brunette being able to turn Squall's life upside's so obvious that he's changing...for her.

There's envy. He's known love.

Suddenly, he tilts his head in an assessing gaze, and looks at me again.

Uncomfortably, I shift in my seat. This is the first time I've ever been left alone...really alone with a guy.

He knows. He must. I must have this "blushing virgin" look to me, because he has this wise knowing smile on his handsome face.

He moves next to me, uncomfortably close to me. I stiffen so that I have no contact with him. "You don't know what love is like, do you?" he says, his breath on my neck.

I find I cannot speak, so I swallow my words, and shake my head.

"I thought not," he said, as he touched my hair clip, tracing the edges.

It's as if my hair has suddenly grown nerves, and they're all humming with nerves and anticipation.

I've never been touched by anyone else before. Not like this, at least.

"It's pain, Quistis. At that moment when you fall in love," the word settles unpleasantly, heavily, on my stomach, "you realize that it will be the most noble thing you'll have ever done. It pains you that you probably have not done or will do anything to ever deserve it. And it pains you because all at once, you see a million possibilities in a second, but only one reality." He takes my chin in his rough hands, the calluses on his fingertips scratchy on my skin.

His eyes are open. Absolutely open, but I do not understand one sentiment, one ideal, one....

...they're beautiful.

Hyne, does the world appear that beautiful to him? Is it that painful to him, to see so much beauty and not be able to touch it the way he wants to, to want and yearn for it...and not obtain.

He leans forward now. Mesmerized by his beauty, I am motionless.

Eyes wide open, we kiss.

And I not only know, but feel that everything that I had ever known about beauty, about truth, about loyalty, about love... wrong.

My heart stops. Drops to my feet, where it is weighed with the burden of love. My mind has dissolved and floated into the air with my common sense, as I hold on.

And I am the happiest, weakest I've ever been in my entire life.

We are jolted into reality all too soon as the train slows, throwing us into each other. His temporary embrace fulfils me.

Just as quickly as he threw my heart into the bind, he withdraws.

He does not look back at me now. He gets up, leaves.

I am left alone.

It's pain, Quistis.