"He tasks me; he heaps me; I see in him outrageous strength, with an inscrutable malice sinewing it. That inscrutable thing is chiefly what I hate..." --Captain Ahab, Moby Dick
You always were the better one.
Every time I looked at you, you made my chest hurt. I hate you. I hate how everyone wanted to be your friend. I hate how you could stand there and soak it all up without truly appreciating what you were being given. Or maybe you did, and just didn't show it. You're a fucking wall. I can't even begin to understand what goes on in that head of yours. It pisses me off.
I wish I could be more like you. I've tried. God knows I've tried. Disciplinary committee my ass. I did it to be more like you. The bad boy that everyone liked, you could treat them all like scum and they'd come back for one more round. Ha! If only I had such power.
Bitter? Not in the slightest. I don't think anything can truly define how much I want to smash that perfect face of yours in. Not so perfect now, not with my mark running across the bridge of your nose, the same as mine. Think you got lucky, Leonhart? Think that I dropped my defenses? I could have finished you right then and there and never have had to look at you again. But no, I let you mark me. Same cut to the face, something that you have that I have, and it makes me just a little bit more like you.
I bet you haven't even thought about it. Do you see my struggle? Is that pity or contempt in your eyes when you look at me? Maybe fear? God, I wish it were fear. I wish that you understood my reckless desire to throw my life away in an attempt to be someone I am not, but would give anything to be.
The only person you care about is yourself. We're not so much different. Are you safe behind those impenetrable walls of yours? They're so fucking thick that I bet you can't breathe in your tower. I bet you're dying in there for want of air. I should know. I'm drowning in it.
I don't have walls, you see. Never did. I get hurt and bleed like the rest of humanity. The only thing I have to my name are weapons. The first of my arsenal is the physical; a gunblade fashioned similar to yours, lighter of course. I never wanted to learn to use it, except that I couldn't let you one up me on something, could I? I wanted to prove to others that I could be just as good as you, in everything. But my real weapons are far more powerful than a gunblade. Words are mightier than the sword, they say, and I have a lot of them at my disposal to work with. I can cut with them, and the wounds they leave are far more lasting.
We're such opposites, you and I. Your silence is your weapon, as words are mine. You defend, and I attack. We even wear opposite colors. My white trenchcoat and the black of your jacket...shadow and light, good and evil.
The villain always wears black. Did you know that?
So why? Why am I not getting the respect I deserve? Oh sure, I have my posse, a couple people dedicated to the worship of me, as well they should. But it isn't enough. I don't want their simpering adoration. I want what you have, that real friendship you keep tossing aside with those blushes and mumbled words of "whatever" and "go talk to a wall."
They might as well be, when they speak to you.
I can't stand it. I would trade everything I have to in your shoes for just a day. For just one day to be the teacher's pet, not the slacker at the back of the class who failed his exams. Did you sneer, like the instructor did, when the list of names were read for the SeeD graduation ceremony, and my name wasn't on it? Arrogant Seifer, left behind in the dust because of his attitude problems and lack of motivation. Fucking morons. Did you know about the days I went without sleep, practicing and training and nearly killing myself to pass? Or the times I cut my wrists over the sink because I'd once again fallen short of the mark? Do you think it was easy for me to stand in your shadow, never able to make a name for myself because you, the perfect student, had already beaten me to it?
I hate natural talent.
Fujin was there for me. She always has been. Raijin...He doesn't understand. But he was there, shaking that head of his like a sheepdog while Fuu's cycolptic gaze burned into my flesh. They tried to help me, binding my wounds in their clumsy way, unable to stop the blood soaking through. Good intentions, yes. I wish they hadn't bothered.
I hate it when people see me when I'm weak. I hated Fuu's expression of sadness and Rai's blank looks.
You have us. You don't need anyone else.
I'm being selfish. I don't care. You always had everything, Squall! Everything I never could get for myself. Articulate, handsome, athletic...I should be the knight the damsels come to in times of need! But was my name the one that circulated campus? No. Was I the one who was frequently talked about in glowing terms? No. If I ever achieved anything, there was no fan section ready to cheer me on. My accomplishments were lost under yours. When you spoke, people listened. I could shout at the top of my lungs and all I'd do is waste my breath.
I hate you so fucking much.
I suppose I should be thankful for what little I have earned for myself. I had a position that made people look at me in fear as I strolled the halls. I have a couple lackeys willing to follow me to hell and back. And I have my memories of Rinoa.
Yes, beautiful Rinoa.
She was the world to me, that summer we shared. I think she goes for guys like me, guys like you, the dark and dangerous type. I think I tried too hard to impress her. She wanted abuse, something I couldn't give. No, never to her, a person I really cared about. That's probably why she left. She was attracted to my brash arrogance, the poor imitation of you that I present to the world. I tried to remain composed, aloof, scornful of her affections like I knew you would. But in the end, I fell, and that was my undoing.
You see, I like to think I understand Rinoa. She's the type of girl who can never be happy with a person who treats her well. I wanted to be her knight, and she wanted to be my bitch. Not a good combination.
But I had her all to myself for a full summer, and that's something that you will never have, Leonhart. You can never have the memory of that sweet, virginal girl lying in your arms under a sea of stars, or of the breathless sound of your name on her lips as she awakened to her first real taste of passion. You may steal her away from me in the end, but I had her first, and nothing you do will ever change that. She's damaged goods, if you take my meaning, broken beyond repair. You can have her, for my victory is already complete. I have one-upped you. Enjoy your tarnished flower, black knight. The white knight does not settle for second best.
Which brings me to today. I have a new love, now. I am the champion of a beautiful, powerful woman who will finally help me realize my potential, the one that was always stunted by your shadow. You are merely the insect trying to defy my authority. But you know...in some small and dark corner of my heart, I still wish I were you. I wish I didn't hate myself for dancing at the end of a puppet-master's strings, no matter how silken and seductive the thread might be. I wish I had a cause I could believe in, not this shattered mirror dream that is like a twisted reality all it's own. I wish you hated me back selfishly, unreasoningly, like I do. I wish you were more like me...obsessed.
Soon we will face off, Squall. Our strength will be tested once again. I won't let you off so easy this time. Don't flinch when the blade pierces your heart, black knight. I'm not really trying to kill you. I'm trying to kill myself.