As if Squall is going to let Seifer out of his sight now that he's finally found him. There is a challenge in the brow that arches in turn when he opens his eyes again to meet the dubious look.
Back to an icy neutrality, he scoffs and casts his gaze across the abandoned cabin. It reminds him so much of Ellone's home in Winhill...Less bullets but the same feeling of emptiness. "We're ruling out provisions, I see."
There are things he can lend a hand with, even though this is far and away from the reason that he's here. "What's next on your list?"
That old place in Winhill was probably in better shape than this place. But Seifer sighs and returns to the pot to pull his packet of heated rations out.
"If you count MREs as provisions I'm going to start considering not making SeeD a blessing."
He rips the bag open and pours it into the bowl he's got and then looks around.
"Was splitting logs to try and patch a hole in the roof over the smaller bedroom I was going to convert into storage. You any good at planing wood? Got some tools for it I did my best to restore in their old shed."
There's a small comfort that Squall tries not to feel at the thought of Seifer getting to eat a hot meal. Sure, it's an MRE, but if they're staying a few days, he can go into town to collect any additional provisions...Irrational fear wars with the thought though. He really doesn't want to let Seifer out of his sight. After the way they clashed, after Seifer's insistence that he's still some monster in need of slaying, Squall's never seen a bigger flight risk...not because he thinks Seifer's afraid of what awaits them in Esthar but because of whatever noble inclinations he's still holding onto.
"Revolver is buried not too far from here. If any of the tools you found need additional sharpening or oiling, we can use what's in my kit." It hadn't seemed wise to bring a weapon or his own supplies. Not when he couldn't be sure how his arrival would be received. The coffee in his hands isn't as warm as the fire had been sitting beside it, but the place is heating up slowly but surely.
His gaze absorbs the interior then sweeps down to the table, seeing where Seifer might have had a hand in its restoration and running his touch along the grain. "I've never built anything beyond rudimentary shelter. The basics," he clarifies of their lessons. "I'm sure I'll figure it out."
"You're an idiot if it's taken this long," he says blandly. If being here isn't enough to convince Seifer that he cares, if the unspooling of Squall's emotions and the abandonment of his position weren't enough, if it's taken being unarmed to prove this point... Maybe he really should have spared them both and just kept quiet about everything else.
"No," Seifer sighs, shaking his head. It's not just as simple as what Squall's assuming Seifer has concluded. It's something else, something deeper.
"Over the years, you've put up with me because of familiarity. Until what I did in Timber, we were the only constants in each other's lives. Since I first showed up at the orphanage, we've always been around each other."
Which is a damn long time. The only two that never left the other. The only ones who were actually there. And look, Seifer does remember the orphanage some. Who knows how much.
"Figured you were confused and lost. Like you were when Ellone was taken away. That you're just looking for touchstones of familiarity when all this shit happened. But that's not it. You're actually here, doing this, because of me. Not for memories or history or stagnation or some shit. But me."
It hurts to think that Seifer might have simply refused to let himself realize the depths of Squall's attachment because the thought was unfathomable or something he didn't feel worthy of. Squall's brows pinch at that, furrowing into a frown that mirrors across the line his mouth has pursed into.
"Yes, Seifer. You." The words feel like air as they leave him. Like a gasp after being held underwater. Because he gets it now. Of course Seifer wouldn't let himself see the inherent value Squall has placed on him. Not when he still considers himself a villain. Not when he's always felt that way with how Garden had treated him.
It pushes Squall up and away from the table, his approach slow as Seifer comes to the realization Squall had thought he'd made clear. "I'm not here because of what we were or even what I hoped we might have been before everything went to hell. I came here for you. Just you, Seifer. And it kills me, like ice in my chest, each time you look past that. Every time you try to call yourself unworthy of being saved. I know you didn't expect me to come. I know you didn't expect me to care. But I do. And I'm here. And I'm..."
He suddenly isn't sure what to do. This moment feels so important. It feels like the first thing to break him from the monotony of his life since being pulled from Time Compression. Squall stares at Seifer and sees all the ways life has been hard on him. The way life has always been hard on him. His hands twitch into fists again, his body shoring itself up against its desire to flee. When he unclenches his fingers, they settle on Seifer's shoulders, the touch slow but deliberate. Their first touch after what feels like lifetimes. Squall hasn't realized the way he's been starving for it.
"I'm sorry I never let you feel like that was possible." He's sorry for so much, for his hand in everything that Seifer has gone through, but sharing the truth of that feels like it will shatter the delicate ground they're standing on and all Squall wants to do is add foundations on top of it. He's older now and braver than he had been since the SeeD exam when he should have tracked Seifer down and said all of this after the ball. Things might have been different if he had. "You were never just something to put up with. I've been chasing you all this time to prove that."
His touch fans up the back of Seifer's neck and it sends a rush through him that breaks through the haze of existing, pumping life back into his veins. It's a sensation that has only ever existed with Seifer. Cultivated through years of longing. Of trying to measure up to Seifer's ideals and strengths and the valor he was constantly trying to hide behind an arrogant smirk. Squall's fingers feel the too-long length of Seifer's hair as he cups the back of his head so he can finally, finally bring their foreheads down to touch where their scars meet. And when he finally breathes, it is ragged and relieved, and he aches for some sign that Seifer feels the same.
Seifer stays silent as the other man speaks. Though he's... definitely overwhelmed by the implication of the words. Especially the 'what we might have been'. Because what the fuck does Squall mean by that?
There's an intimacy in the touch. More than ever before. More than he's ever dared to hope for. More than he's ever dared himself to do. He's pulled in close and their foreheads touch and it's not enough. It's never been enough. It will never be enough.
But maybe, just maybe...
He runs one risk that he should never allow. The one that could change Squall's mind. Make him finally see all the ways he shouldn't let Seifer be around. Sure, he was always the risk taker, but never this one. He would never allow himself this one.
Fuck it, though. Hyne he just didn't care anymore. Let the cards fall where they may. So he pulls back from forehead touches because he needs the space to tilt his head to the side. To lean in. To press their lips together.
If the war hadn't happened, if Squall had never been sent to Timber on the mission that would forever trap them in this loop of inevitability, what could they have been? The question used to scratch at his mind. Would he have been brave enough to resign from SeeD after seeing firsthand how right Seifer had been about its preferences for candidates and the petty degree to which it enforced its contracts? Would Seifer being forced to leave Garden after not graduating after the exam been the push needed for Squall to say everything he's finally said now? How many avenues of potential had he cut off by damning them in his journey through time?
The ache of that possibility lives in him now and the chasm it's created only grows wider for that split second when Seifer shifts back and Squall's desperate hands twitch with the urge to anchor him in. To not let Seifer brush this off. But that's not what's happening. Instead, Squall experiences a ripple in time as their lips feather against each other before sealing in a kiss. For moment, they're five and six again, standing on a beach, kissing in a chaste way that comes from trying to soothe hurt and affirm loyalties. Then, as Squall's hands lift to draw Seifer in, they're teenagers, kissing like it's just another way for them to fight.
And now, the reality falls in line with all the apparitions of the past and Squall is kissing Seifer because it's him. Because it was always meant to be him. If this had been a last ditch attempt to put him off, to make him rethink his presence, all it does is affirm it in a way Squall never thought he'd be brave enough to tempt. But now that it's here, now that he's pressing himself bodily up against Seifer and feeling the changes in their bodies, the heat of their joined mouths, Squall can't imagine a world where this stops. He pours himself into the kiss like it's magic. Like he can push the spell of his affection into Seifer's body, a physical draw point of need and desire.
To be honest, Seifer expected to be, at the very least, let down gently. Hyne, it could still come if he was being honest with himself. But at the moment here was Squall, meeting him heat for heat. Desire for desire, want for want, heat for heat.
For him the kiss isn't magic. It's like those moments of getting something he had finally been striving for. Like when he finished paying for Hyperion and the case was handed over. When he reached Balamb Garden for the first time and Cid had put a hand on their shoulders and said they would always have a home. The first time he hit a proper limit. The first time after so long when Squall seemed to look at him without hate.
This moment is like those. Ones to be cherished, to hope they last.
If he were a Hyne fearing man, and who was these days, he might pray that this one would actually manage it. But he isn't for tempting fate anymore. Which is why, after a few seconds, he pulls back from the kiss. Just gives space between them, to look at Squall. To question with eyes alone.
To beg for this to not be another nightmare about to take a turn.
The quiet jealousy that made him so prickly whenever Seifer would end their sparring to go out on the town with Fujin and Raijin or take off during their breaks to travel with Squall staying behind at Garden, is nothing compared to the envy he feels at the space that suddenly exists between them. The vacuum that opens up after makes Squall feel dizzy as he sucks in a bracing breath through his nose to better ground himself.
But there is years of desire to fight against and it's a battle he happily loses to as his hands curve around the back of Seifer's neck to anchor him back in, butting their foreheads up in silent affirmation. He's not running from this. He's not going to let Seifer run from it either. "I've wanted you to do that for..."
It feels ridiculous now. To have never been brave enough to try himself. To have relied on Seifer for everything, even this. He's spent years forcing down the idea, trying to convince himself it was a bad one, only to be face to face with it and realize he was never going to know peace until trying. So Squall doesn't tell Seifer how long. Instead he tilts his head to press a softer, chaster kiss to his mouth. Something gentle. The tenderness of it making him ache because he can't imagine how long it's been since Seifer has known the like.
Oh, the kiss is nice, it's sweet, it's something he's longed for. That doesn't stop Seifer from pulling back from it and looking Squall in the eyes. Staring in them. Watching them closely as his hand comes up to cup Squall's cheek.
"No. You finish that sentence, Leonhart. You let me know how long you've been reciprocating and frustrated over it. Because I've wanted you since I was fourteen and didn't know what to do with all of that. And I want to know just how annoyed I need to be with you."
Hyne. Since they were fourteen. Could they have disrupted fate if Squall had been a little bit braver? A little less bristly? His breath comes in sharp, a pained sound smothered in his chest, as shame burns through him under Seifer's gaze and the tenderness of the hand cradling his face.
"Very," he confirms. Squall knows annoyance is the bare minimum of what Seifer should hold against him for their unspoken mutual attraction. There's a myriad of secrets yet to be shared, but he owes it to them to muscle through the embarrassment of sharing.
"Longer. I think. The memory is...Fuzzy. We were getting fitted for a new year of uniforms and you'd come out, a big smile on your face," his words trail off a moment as Squall searches Seifer's face for the kid he'd been at the time. Both of them young. Gangly teenagers. Squall's expression pinches with the memory. "You caught me staring." He's certain Seifer knows how that turned out. How he'd flushed and rolled his eyes, blowing off anything that might have given him away. He's tempted to do the same now, but pushes the reaction down with a deep, bracing breath.
His expression is briefly hidden in the warmth of Seifer's palm, turning his face into it before exhaling and straightening himself to meet his eyes. "I loved that look on you. Like you could take on the world. You came back from town with the same look when you got your coat. Fujin and Raijin strutting beside you like they believed you could."
The vulnerability is its own gnawing ache as Squall remembers the accompanying emotions that had come with those moments. The jealousy and inferiority, how he'd always wanted more but felt like he couldn't compete against the everything Seifer was always chasing.
Longer? Seifer doesn't remember the day Squall mentions, but he remembers days like it. And man is that annoying. They could have... This could have... He might not have failed out if he felt there was someone like Squall to stay for. It made him angry, annoyed...
But also resigned. Because he'd known Ultimecia was from the future. And in a way, the connection between him and her had therefore always felt inevitable. Inescapable. Fated. He never could have had Squall because he was always fated to belong to her. Perhaps even now a small part of him did.
Squall knows better than to lay the blame entirely on their shoulders. So much of their past is distorted through the lens of half-eaten memory thanks to the GFs. And yet...There's the hand he's played in all of this. The one responsible for why they were set on their paths in the first place. The guilt gnaws at him and Squall presses their foreheads together more ardently, knocking them against each other in a gentle butting before easing back to finally, finally trace the length of Seifer's own with his fingertips.
"What happened?" His hand curls a little on the back of Seifer's neck, anticipating the cheek because Squall knows what happened, he was there, but he'd blacked out almost immediately after reciprocating the blow that resulted in the marks they both share. "I never got a chance to ask how I got to the infirmary. I'd always assumed it was you, but...You kept yours." His thumb fans out again over the scar in question. "I've never stopped wondering...or hoping that it was on purpose." Because as fucked up as it was, leaving their marks on each other had meant something to Squall then and still means something to him now. That they've marked each other in a way no one, not even their GFs, could take away from them.
What a question to ask. The scar had been nothing but trouble for Seifer since everything had ended, making him infinitely more recognizable, even though it was no longer the highly obvious and glaringly bright red that had been there so soon after they had wounded each other. Honestly, Seifer didn't enjoy thinking about the thing, about what he had done to Squall. Seifer? He'd deserved the scar, a reward for his failure to stay aware during their match multiple times. But Squall?
"It was a reminder," he says with a sigh. "At least, it was at first. A lesson in being mindful, in the repercussions for my actions. Felt like I needed to live with it, to be better. And then... Well, she once offered to take it away from me, to heal it completely. Probably wasn't possible by then. She said she didn't wish me to be so marred by someone as unworthy as you. But I said I wanted it. The reminder of what you'd done to me."
Something to feed the fires of the hate he didn't think he'd ever really felt. And a small act of rebellion.
At what point had all of Seifer's romanticism rubbed off on him? Was it because of Rinoa? Did being a knight change something in you? Unlock it so that anything was forgivable under the right lens?
No. That wasn't it. Squall had never begrudged Seifer the scar. That want of connection, for it to serve a greater purpose had been there from the beginning, a throbbing reminder of who it was he was always striving to meet and one he'd risen to the challenge of when pushed as seen mirrored in Seifer's own scar.
His brows furrow with the explanation. The way Seifer punished himself by keeping the thing. How it had served as a different kind of reminder. A less gentle one. Against the ache of what that means Squall offers, "Esthar's advanced beyond anything the rest of the world is used to. If they have the technology...I could..."
Squall can't bring himself to say it so he doesn't, averting his gaze instead to stare down at their shoes. "With the others too. You don't have to carry these anymore."
The very idea that any country would have the tech to take away scar tissue earns a scoff. But he still shakes his head. The punishments would always be a reminder.
"You're already offering the impossible. So no, I don't want to talk about something like that, okay?"
Because he needs to sit in the world of reality. The more impossible things that Squall is offering, the more unreal all of this is. The more of an illusion. A delusion. The other sort of punishment he was often given.
The impossible isn't offered lightly and won't come without a cost. Squall's certain that even if Laguna keeps his end of the arrangement, other nations will refuse to honor the amnesty Esthar provides. Strangely, of the two things he's proposed, the scars don't seem the most unreasonable.
Still, he acquiesces with a nod, easing back to better look at Seifer. The urge to say a million things start and stop on his tongue. Time briefly slips away and after a long moment, Squall shakes himself back to reality with a deep pull of air. "The roof, then?"
They owe Nomura plenty but it still rankles Squall to hear it, especially given his suspicions around their entanglement. It sparks a jealousy in him that he's not proud of. The kind that wants to bite marks into Seifer that the other man can wear fondly as opposed to all of the others they've left on each other. That others have left on them.
He turns his face and lets Seifer's lips skate across his cheek so he can latch his mouth to Seifer's neck instead which he nips before grumbling, "Nomura's not really on my mind right now."
His fingers tangle in Seifer's too-long hair to better allow his teeth the ability to scrape over skin, tasting him and drowning in the warmth of him.
"Shit," Seifer hisses once Squall's got even the briefest amount of teeth into play. Not what he was expecting from the guy. At all.
"Down, kitty," he says, gently pushing Squall away. "We've got limited sunlight, and you've got to use that while it's here. You can get your claws out later."
The patented Leonhart eyeroll returns as he's eased away. For some reason, on the heels of Nomura's name, it rankles him further but Squall doesn't protest. The faint evidence of his mouth on Seifer's throat is enough to briefly satisfy him. Proof of the moment written in his skin.
"Fine, fine," it's a begrudging grumble as Squall breathes through the years of frustration, burying it the way he'd learned to while they were cadets. He doesn't remember it being this hard. "Go get your tools. I'll dig up Revolver."
The idea of leaving Seifer doesn't sit well with him. It causes him to hover in his spot, uncertainty flashing in his gaze as he takes the other in, absorbing the sight of him so as to better cement it in reality. Squall thinks to say something but ultimately settles for a nod. He can do this. He can put his emotions away and put himself to the task ahead.
Seifer can't imagine what good the weapon will do them for right now, but he isn't going to argue. Not for right now at least. Not when Squall could be annoying as Hyne if he wanted to be. When he wanted to be. Which was pretty often in general and especially today.
"Alright then. I'll see about getting you something to drink too. You thirsty still? Not for coffee?"
The cleaning kit in his gunblade case will come in handy for the tools since Seifer insists on putting them to work on the place. He hasn't needed to wield a gunblade for anything more than training in the time since the war and prefers it that way. Seifer is right though, Squall can be prickly and annoying when things don't go the way his mind has insisted they do and right now he's still trying to reorient himself after the confessions that have been aired out between them.
It's not innuendo but Hyne, it's definitely not helping.
"The coffee's fine." It's not. It's field grade and black, but he's the kind of psychopath who will nurse a single cup the entire day, temperature of it be damned. It takes a moment for him to remember basic civility. He understands Seifer's trying to do something for him so he relents some of his tightly knotted independence enough to ask, "But if you're bringing water in, I wouldn't mind enough to wash up."
Squall's always been fastidious that way and after a train ride and trek through Timber, feeling a little human would do wonders while they navigate the uncharted territory of their confessions.
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Back to an icy neutrality, he scoffs and casts his gaze across the abandoned cabin. It reminds him so much of Ellone's home in Winhill...Less bullets but the same feeling of emptiness. "We're ruling out provisions, I see."
There are things he can lend a hand with, even though this is far and away from the reason that he's here. "What's next on your list?"
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"If you count MREs as provisions I'm going to start considering not making SeeD a blessing."
He rips the bag open and pours it into the bowl he's got and then looks around.
"Was splitting logs to try and patch a hole in the roof over the smaller bedroom I was going to convert into storage. You any good at planing wood? Got some tools for it I did my best to restore in their old shed."
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"Revolver is buried not too far from here. If any of the tools you found need additional sharpening or oiling, we can use what's in my kit." It hadn't seemed wise to bring a weapon or his own supplies. Not when he couldn't be sure how his arrival would be received. The coffee in his hands isn't as warm as the fire had been sitting beside it, but the place is heating up slowly but surely.
His gaze absorbs the interior then sweeps down to the table, seeing where Seifer might have had a hand in its restoration and running his touch along the grain. "I've never built anything beyond rudimentary shelter. The basics," he clarifies of their lessons. "I'm sure I'll figure it out."
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"You buried your old blade and your kit?" Seifer asked, shocked and confused. Why would he do that? For him? To make him feel safe?
"Fuck, Squally, I'm almost starting to think you care."
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"Over the years, you've put up with me because of familiarity. Until what I did in Timber, we were the only constants in each other's lives. Since I first showed up at the orphanage, we've always been around each other."
Which is a damn long time. The only two that never left the other. The only ones who were actually there. And look, Seifer does remember the orphanage some. Who knows how much.
"Figured you were confused and lost. Like you were when Ellone was taken away. That you're just looking for touchstones of familiarity when all this shit happened. But that's not it. You're actually here, doing this, because of me. Not for memories or history or stagnation or some shit. But me."
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"Yes, Seifer. You." The words feel like air as they leave him. Like a gasp after being held underwater. Because he gets it now. Of course Seifer wouldn't let himself see the inherent value Squall has placed on him. Not when he still considers himself a villain. Not when he's always felt that way with how Garden had treated him.
It pushes Squall up and away from the table, his approach slow as Seifer comes to the realization Squall had thought he'd made clear. "I'm not here because of what we were or even what I hoped we might have been before everything went to hell. I came here for you. Just you, Seifer. And it kills me, like ice in my chest, each time you look past that. Every time you try to call yourself unworthy of being saved. I know you didn't expect me to come. I know you didn't expect me to care. But I do. And I'm here. And I'm..."
He suddenly isn't sure what to do. This moment feels so important. It feels like the first thing to break him from the monotony of his life since being pulled from Time Compression. Squall stares at Seifer and sees all the ways life has been hard on him. The way life has always been hard on him. His hands twitch into fists again, his body shoring itself up against its desire to flee. When he unclenches his fingers, they settle on Seifer's shoulders, the touch slow but deliberate. Their first touch after what feels like lifetimes. Squall hasn't realized the way he's been starving for it.
"I'm sorry I never let you feel like that was possible." He's sorry for so much, for his hand in everything that Seifer has gone through, but sharing the truth of that feels like it will shatter the delicate ground they're standing on and all Squall wants to do is add foundations on top of it. He's older now and braver than he had been since the SeeD exam when he should have tracked Seifer down and said all of this after the ball. Things might have been different if he had. "You were never just something to put up with. I've been chasing you all this time to prove that."
His touch fans up the back of Seifer's neck and it sends a rush through him that breaks through the haze of existing, pumping life back into his veins. It's a sensation that has only ever existed with Seifer. Cultivated through years of longing. Of trying to measure up to Seifer's ideals and strengths and the valor he was constantly trying to hide behind an arrogant smirk. Squall's fingers feel the too-long length of Seifer's hair as he cups the back of his head so he can finally, finally bring their foreheads down to touch where their scars meet. And when he finally breathes, it is ragged and relieved, and he aches for some sign that Seifer feels the same.
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There's an intimacy in the touch. More than ever before. More than he's ever dared to hope for. More than he's ever dared himself to do. He's pulled in close and their foreheads touch and it's not enough. It's never been enough. It will never be enough.
But maybe, just maybe...
He runs one risk that he should never allow. The one that could change Squall's mind. Make him finally see all the ways he shouldn't let Seifer be around. Sure, he was always the risk taker, but never this one. He would never allow himself this one.
Fuck it, though. Hyne he just didn't care anymore. Let the cards fall where they may. So he pulls back from forehead touches because he needs the space to tilt his head to the side. To lean in. To press their lips together.
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The ache of that possibility lives in him now and the chasm it's created only grows wider for that split second when Seifer shifts back and Squall's desperate hands twitch with the urge to anchor him in. To not let Seifer brush this off. But that's not what's happening. Instead, Squall experiences a ripple in time as their lips feather against each other before sealing in a kiss. For moment, they're five and six again, standing on a beach, kissing in a chaste way that comes from trying to soothe hurt and affirm loyalties. Then, as Squall's hands lift to draw Seifer in, they're teenagers, kissing like it's just another way for them to fight.
And now, the reality falls in line with all the apparitions of the past and Squall is kissing Seifer because it's him. Because it was always meant to be him. If this had been a last ditch attempt to put him off, to make him rethink his presence, all it does is affirm it in a way Squall never thought he'd be brave enough to tempt. But now that it's here, now that he's pressing himself bodily up against Seifer and feeling the changes in their bodies, the heat of their joined mouths, Squall can't imagine a world where this stops. He pours himself into the kiss like it's magic. Like he can push the spell of his affection into Seifer's body, a physical draw point of need and desire.
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For him the kiss isn't magic. It's like those moments of getting something he had finally been striving for. Like when he finished paying for Hyperion and the case was handed over. When he reached Balamb Garden for the first time and Cid had put a hand on their shoulders and said they would always have a home. The first time he hit a proper limit. The first time after so long when Squall seemed to look at him without hate.
This moment is like those. Ones to be cherished, to hope they last.
If he were a Hyne fearing man, and who was these days, he might pray that this one would actually manage it. But he isn't for tempting fate anymore. Which is why, after a few seconds, he pulls back from the kiss. Just gives space between them, to look at Squall. To question with eyes alone.
To beg for this to not be another nightmare about to take a turn.
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But there is years of desire to fight against and it's a battle he happily loses to as his hands curve around the back of Seifer's neck to anchor him back in, butting their foreheads up in silent affirmation. He's not running from this. He's not going to let Seifer run from it either. "I've wanted you to do that for..."
It feels ridiculous now. To have never been brave enough to try himself. To have relied on Seifer for everything, even this. He's spent years forcing down the idea, trying to convince himself it was a bad one, only to be face to face with it and realize he was never going to know peace until trying. So Squall doesn't tell Seifer how long. Instead he tilts his head to press a softer, chaster kiss to his mouth. Something gentle. The tenderness of it making him ache because he can't imagine how long it's been since Seifer has known the like.
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"No. You finish that sentence, Leonhart. You let me know how long you've been reciprocating and frustrated over it. Because I've wanted you since I was fourteen and didn't know what to do with all of that. And I want to know just how annoyed I need to be with you."
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"Very," he confirms. Squall knows annoyance is the bare minimum of what Seifer should hold against him for their unspoken mutual attraction. There's a myriad of secrets yet to be shared, but he owes it to them to muscle through the embarrassment of sharing.
"Longer. I think. The memory is...Fuzzy. We were getting fitted for a new year of uniforms and you'd come out, a big smile on your face," his words trail off a moment as Squall searches Seifer's face for the kid he'd been at the time. Both of them young. Gangly teenagers. Squall's expression pinches with the memory. "You caught me staring." He's certain Seifer knows how that turned out. How he'd flushed and rolled his eyes, blowing off anything that might have given him away. He's tempted to do the same now, but pushes the reaction down with a deep, bracing breath.
His expression is briefly hidden in the warmth of Seifer's palm, turning his face into it before exhaling and straightening himself to meet his eyes. "I loved that look on you. Like you could take on the world. You came back from town with the same look when you got your coat. Fujin and Raijin strutting beside you like they believed you could."
The vulnerability is its own gnawing ache as Squall remembers the accompanying emotions that had come with those moments. The jealousy and inferiority, how he'd always wanted more but felt like he couldn't compete against the everything Seifer was always chasing.
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But also resigned. Because he'd known Ultimecia was from the future. And in a way, the connection between him and her had therefore always felt inevitable. Inescapable. Fated. He never could have had Squall because he was always fated to belong to her. Perhaps even now a small part of him did.
"Guess we're both idiots."
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"What happened?" His hand curls a little on the back of Seifer's neck, anticipating the cheek because Squall knows what happened, he was there, but he'd blacked out almost immediately after reciprocating the blow that resulted in the marks they both share. "I never got a chance to ask how I got to the infirmary. I'd always assumed it was you, but...You kept yours." His thumb fans out again over the scar in question. "I've never stopped wondering...or hoping that it was on purpose." Because as fucked up as it was, leaving their marks on each other had meant something to Squall then and still means something to him now. That they've marked each other in a way no one, not even their GFs, could take away from them.
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"It was a reminder," he says with a sigh. "At least, it was at first. A lesson in being mindful, in the repercussions for my actions. Felt like I needed to live with it, to be better. And then... Well, she once offered to take it away from me, to heal it completely. Probably wasn't possible by then. She said she didn't wish me to be so marred by someone as unworthy as you. But I said I wanted it. The reminder of what you'd done to me."
Something to feed the fires of the hate he didn't think he'd ever really felt. And a small act of rebellion.
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No. That wasn't it. Squall had never begrudged Seifer the scar. That want of connection, for it to serve a greater purpose had been there from the beginning, a throbbing reminder of who it was he was always striving to meet and one he'd risen to the challenge of when pushed as seen mirrored in Seifer's own scar.
His brows furrow with the explanation. The way Seifer punished himself by keeping the thing. How it had served as a different kind of reminder. A less gentle one. Against the ache of what that means Squall offers, "Esthar's advanced beyond anything the rest of the world is used to. If they have the technology...I could..."
Squall can't bring himself to say it so he doesn't, averting his gaze instead to stare down at their shoes. "With the others too. You don't have to carry these anymore."
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"You're already offering the impossible. So no, I don't want to talk about something like that, okay?"
Because he needs to sit in the world of reality. The more impossible things that Squall is offering, the more unreal all of this is. The more of an illusion. A delusion. The other sort of punishment he was often given.
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Still, he acquiesces with a nod, easing back to better look at Seifer. The urge to say a million things start and stop on his tongue. Time briefly slips away and after a long moment, Squall shakes himself back to reality with a deep pull of air. "The roof, then?"
Because that's something they can fix.
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"I guess I sort of owe it to Nomura to fix the thing. Between the squatting here and the him sending you after me, it makes sense."
He says that, but of course he's focusing instead on moving in to kiss Squall once more.
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He turns his face and lets Seifer's lips skate across his cheek so he can latch his mouth to Seifer's neck instead which he nips before grumbling, "Nomura's not really on my mind right now."
His fingers tangle in Seifer's too-long hair to better allow his teeth the ability to scrape over skin, tasting him and drowning in the warmth of him.
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"Down, kitty," he says, gently pushing Squall away. "We've got limited sunlight, and you've got to use that while it's here. You can get your claws out later."
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"Fine, fine," it's a begrudging grumble as Squall breathes through the years of frustration, burying it the way he'd learned to while they were cadets. He doesn't remember it being this hard. "Go get your tools. I'll dig up Revolver."
The idea of leaving Seifer doesn't sit well with him. It causes him to hover in his spot, uncertainty flashing in his gaze as he takes the other in, absorbing the sight of him so as to better cement it in reality. Squall thinks to say something but ultimately settles for a nod. He can do this. He can put his emotions away and put himself to the task ahead.
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"Alright then. I'll see about getting you something to drink too. You thirsty still? Not for coffee?"
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It's not innuendo but Hyne, it's definitely not helping.
"The coffee's fine." It's not. It's field grade and black, but he's the kind of psychopath who will nurse a single cup the entire day, temperature of it be damned. It takes a moment for him to remember basic civility. He understands Seifer's trying to do something for him so he relents some of his tightly knotted independence enough to ask, "But if you're bringing water in, I wouldn't mind enough to wash up."
Squall's always been fastidious that way and after a train ride and trek through Timber, feeling a little human would do wonders while they navigate the uncharted territory of their confessions.
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