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[cross_swords]

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[vacantexpression]

[ Part of the trouble with movies like this is they're so abstract to his own reality that Squall finds it difficult to connect with them. Instead, he's often left with the nagging reminder of being incomplete in some way because of how they were raised: with weapons in their hands and objectives as their bed time stories.

Yet even he can see that the protagonist is a moron. Not even just because of her brief but torrid obsession with the film's resident bad boy (who, by Squall's standards, isn't even really that bad of guy), but because by the end of things the only people who have shown any real growth are her two love interests, neither of whom made her better.

By the time the credits are rolling and their candy is gone (when it became communal Squall doesn't know but he also didn't put up much of a fight), the mutt in his lap is happily asleep which is the only reason why he slings his voice low to share his thoughts. A first considering he wasn't prompted for them. ]

So she just...gets with the guy and that's it? No figuring out how they're going to make it work with their differences? He's barely got his life together.

[ Squall's mouth purses into a tight line after the brief tirade, annoyed that he's given Seifer some small sliver of satisfaction for being more invested than he anticipated. The dog wakes, whines, and pushes its nose into his stomach but if it's to tell him to keep talking, he doesn't. ]

[cross_swords]

It's the happily ever after effect. No one cares beyond the moment of happy acceptance. If there is growth we don't see if it lasts. People want to see if be simple I think.

[The girl had. What a fairy tale life she had wanted to live. Something Seifer had known he could never provide. He's slain what amounts to dinosaurs with only his blade, bullets, and wits. He's got scars on his scars. He knows people walk away and maybe they don't grow until it's too late.]

It's drivel. But at the same time it's enviable. There is this moment of happiness and fulfillment, and in your mind's eye you can fill in the gaps. Not with the likely or the probable, but the aspirational. A happy relationship with someone who cares and supports you. Who sees you for as you are or helps you reach who you could be. By never pushes you too far beyond your limits so that you really have to consider yourself or how you fucked up or how you might fuck yo. But at the same time, because it is only a story, they can't walk away. Can't abandon you. Can't die.

Happiness, or at least contentment, held always at the same level or dreamed to be higher with no risk.

[vacantexpression]

[ He gets why Seifer has a posse; why there are some people who are eager to latch onto Seifer's presence. It's not the first time Squall's had this realization, but he's reminded of it as they sit in the emptying theater. He agrees that the film was drivel, but that deeper longing behind it have him shifting to watch Seifer as he speaks.

He has an elbow on the armrest between them and a hand on the dog who's content to stay in his lap and as he listens, Squall can't help but notice how deeply abnormal this is by virtue of it being the most normal, the most pedestrian, thing they've ever done together.

He doesn't hate it.

And Seifer is right: it is enviable. That part he hates. The ache in him, the one that keeps everyone from ever getting too close, reminds him that people do abandon you. People do, in fact, die. Is it worth it for some small moment of contentment? He deliberately tries not to think of the warm weight in his lap or how he's leaned in closer to listen to Seifer as he weighs the merits of such things. ]

You could have that. [ He's not sure why he's saying it. The selfish part of him wants Seifer to stay at Garden. To pass the fucking SeeD exam. To push him so he can push back. But listening to Seifer...These don't feel like the ideals of a soldier. They're the ideals of a romantic. ] Are you sure you're not failing the field test on purpose?

[ There's a better way to ask if Seifer is doing what he wants with his life, but of course no one would ever make the mistake of saying Squall was good with his words. ]

[cross_swords]

[The words 'you could have that' are met, almost instantly, with a little scoff. Squall may be Garden's most frigid resident, but everyone knows Seifer's the most fiery. Both things to avoid if you don't want hurt. And Seifer has no problem in recognizing that he'll never get to live up to any of his romantic dreams.

It's why he never voices them. Just finds facsimiles to play at and pretend he's content with.

But the question of if he's failing on purpose has him making a louder, far more pissed off noise as he pushes to his feet.]

Yeah, Leonhart. I'm failing on purpose. Nothing like spending two years getting screwed over and knowing I've got a few months left before I'm kicked out of the only fucking home I've ever known, torn from the only friends I've ever had, and told that I'm not good enough. Nothing like knowing that my only options are going to be selling my sword as some backwater village's personal monster shield in hopes that they give me just enough to keep a leaky roof over my head and some gruel in my bowl. Or better than that, joining a fucking military like Galbadia's which is SO much more strict than Garden is. Sounds like fucking heaven.

[No. He didn't want to fail. He had nowhere else to go. Garden was literally all he had and the place was hardly preparing any of them for life outside of it. Maybe he could go for being a cop. Wouldn't that make everyone happy.]

And you're so bright that you can see how much I clearly want that shit and was secretly hiding it. Amazing. Really, they should hire you as guidance counselor or something. Help weed the chaff who dream of other things from the cream of the fucking crop.

[vacantexpression]

[ It doesn't surprise Squall that there's offense to be taken. What does surprise him is how he's clearly misinterpreted Seifer's behavior in their time at Garden together. It strikes him as odd that when rapidly trying to circulate through his memories for when the wires got crossed, he can't pinpoint the moment. He also can't pinpoint when they started at Garden together but that's not nearly as important as the body standing up to leave. Not even the dog wants him gone and hops out of Squall's lap to follow at Seifer's heels. He rises to do the same.

...When was the last time he chased after someone? ]

Don't be an idiot. You're not failing because you're not best.

[ No one should ever seek comfort from him, truly, but maybe there's some solace in the fact that Squall isn't the type of person to offer platitudes. It's also the first time he's ever admitted which of them has more skill between them and they are, without a doubt, Garden's best. It's not pride or bravado that has Squall aware of that.

There are people shooting them looks as they file out, but Squall stops Seifer with a hand around his elbow. ] I thought SeeD was just...the next thing for you. It's the only thing we've been trained to know. But you are dreaming of other things. You constantly put your ideals ahead of orders and no one on these tests has had the prowess to keep up with you so you can marry the two.

[ The dog at their feet begins to whine and pant, clearly unhappy with the sudden conflict. But conflict is something Squall has never backed away from with Seifer. It's the one thing he knows how to do right with him that doesn't involve a blade. ]

It'll be different next time. [ He's prepared for Seifer to shrug him off. He knows he's touched something sensitive. But they are the best. And he knows Seifer won't let him fail. And now Squall won't let him either. ]

[cross_swords]

[Being the best doesn't matter if he's not also willing to be exactly the sort of mindless puppet the faculty wants. Someone who follows orders without thinking about them, without questioning them. Someone to be a certain kind of soldier that has even less morality than the military does when the price is right. Not the sort of man he dreamed of being, or the sort of work he dreamed SeeD would have.

And yeah, Seifer's got a lot of pent up anger about it that Squall never knew. That no one knew. That no one wanted to learn.]

I'm failing because I can actually think and question and have independent thoughts and that isn't exactly marketable in mercenaries if it isn't in the exact right way. I'm not like you. I can't just listen to someone give a stupid order and go 'yes, let's do that.'

[And he doesn't want to be. But what else does he have? Risk it all to try and claw his way into keeping the only place he's ever known and then... what? He doesn't even know. Hyne it's so fucking stupid. He's stupid. And he's angry. He jerks his arm away from Squall's grip.]

You don't get it, do you? You'll pass next time. No way you won't. Faculty is desperate for a gunblader, clearly always have been.

[After all, he feels like it was a little too easy for them to get permission to go into one of the world's most dangerous weapons when they were barely old enough to do their times tables.]

But me? Ifrit's balls, you don't even get it.

[He gestures sharply toward the now dim screen, trying to evoke something of the movie.]

I'm the douchebag obstacle in the movie. The two dimensional piece of shit that maybe for half a minute you root for because maybe he is what the heroine wants. Someone to maybe shake up her life and change it, maybe pull her out of the comfort zone. Give her a chance to see something other than his looks and the unreliable narrator angle suggesting those looks and being a 'bad boy' is all he is. I'm the one you root against once you realize the guy the movie wants the chick to get with. The character that has some scene that gets momentarily tense before he's swept off like he never fucking existed. Set dressing on other people's lives. Because if you look closer maybe you start to see he's not the shallow ponce you see through the lens. Or you hope he isn't, because otherwise can you imagine? The torment she would live with? The way he would self destruct his life or hers?

[His arm drops to the side and he shakes his head.]

Not everyone can be the museum chick looking for her perfect future, or what she thinks it is. And not everyone can be the quiet, withdrawn, handsome, but clearly seeking on some level to be seen and open up barista. The guy that gets to have that dream because he did the right thing and was only what the narrative wanted him to be. Hell, we can't even all be the shallow best friend who gives makeovers and just lives to compliment the other two. Some of us get to want to be recognized for who we are and not have to apologize for everything about ourselves. To not be the person shot only one way that leaves the audience thinking 'thank hyne she didn't end up with him because he'd destroy one or both of them'. To not have to live a shit life trying to fit into the stupid mold of the role because what the fuck else is there? Disappearing out of the story completely? Is that even worth it? Being free but utterly out of the picture?

[And maybe he's just worked up, but that's a lot of vulnerability there. A lot of internalized emotions maybe thrown out there in too public of a way. Which only makes the anger worse. The frustration worse. The certainty of his own doom worse.

He's not doomed by the narrative. He's doomed by his own certainty of doom. He's making his prophecies and slamming himself into a poorly fitting mold made by them, just like he's trying to slam himself into Garden's mold. And he doesn't fit in either.]

[vacantexpression]

[ This is more of Seifer than he's ever seen and suddenly, with the bravado peeled back and his heart on display, Squall understands why Seifer walks through the world the way he does, forcing people to acknowledge his existence. You cannot be in a room with Seifer Almasy and not know he's there. Squall had always thought it was arrogance or some haughty need to show off. It's not. It's desperation. It's clinging to a world that could take or leave them the way their parents did and screaming at it to make space for him.

How had he never seen it until now? Squall is struck by the fact that Seifer might be the bravest person he knows and it hurts to see what that bravery has gotten him. To see the hurt exposed right before his eyes.

Of course Seifer would rather be perceived as a bully or an asshole than nothing at all. Anything as long as it wasn't nothing. And yet the way Seifer talks has him questioning so much of their time at Garden. It unravels the neat and tidy and contentedly ignorant existence he's been able to maintain because keeping his head down is easy and safe. Operating as a cog in a machine, knowing his function, is safe. It makes him nauseous to realize that maybe Seifer's right: he doesn't get it and the depths of his nescience might be deeper than he knows.

He forces himself not to think of the very real possibility that Seifer might have been held back for other reasons: to further the potential of a gunblader that's easier to control. He forces himself not to think of the fact that Seifer also sees that in him and what it might mean for how little he thinks of Squall. He forces himself not to think. ]

Life isn't a movie. When the idiot barista gets the girl, that doesn't mean the realities and dreams of everyone else that got them there are over. You're no one's set dressing, Seifer.

[ His mouth is open to say more but the cleaning staff have arrived. Now all of a sudden people care about the dog and they exercise all the authority in them to tell Seifer: Your dog can't be in here, sir. The whiplash of needing to leave on the heels of Seifer's speech makes Squall feel ill, but he bends to scoop up the mutt and put it in Seifer's arms so he doesn't try to put a fist through anything instead. ] We were just leaving.

[cross_swords]

[Seifer scoffs, ready to roll on, until he hears talk about the dog. And from there it's immediately taking the dog thrust into his arms, smiling warmly, and turning to move toward the cleaning staff. Who he thrusts the dog at.]

Good thing it isn't my dog. Could you see to taking care of it to reunite it with its owner? Wish this cutie was mine, but I live in an apartment with a no pet policy. Thanks.

[And then he's just brushing by the employee with no regard. It's what he does. Blows in and out of lives.]

[vacantexpression]

[ The back of Squall's neck goes hot with embarrassment but that's nothing new with Seifer in a public setting. For someone who constantly wanting to be swallowed up by the ground, anything that casts dubious attention his way usually incites this kind of reaction. There's a war within him to relieve the employee of the dog; a moral dilemma he waffles briefly with.

This whole idea was stupid. Why did he think joining Seifer in the theater was going to be anything less than disasterous? The gentle whine makes him feel worse but ultimately Squall firms up his resolve to leave. It's better this way. He's not good with animals. He's not even good with people. What made him think he could do anything to help?

Whatever.

His head is down as he ducks out of the theater, hands shoved in the pockets of the uniform's cropped jacket to make himself small. What was he thinking? The coastal air feels abrasive in his lungs when he sucks in his first breath of it, sighing it out with his eyes on the ground. If they make the journey back to Garden together it'll just be stilted and awkward. He shouldn't have said anything. He should have kept his mouth closed.

The words I'm nothing like you haunt him when he sees the edges of Seifer's coat in his periphery. He knows what their arrangement is. They push each other because they're the only ones at Garden who can rise to the challenge. That's it. That's it. He's never tried to disrupt that tenuous balance of rivalry into friendship and now he's reminded why as the words rattle in his head, repeating themselves like ticker tape across his thoughts to the score of that stupid dog's whine.

There isn't much more to be said, is there? Not when he shouldn't have said anything in the first place. Squall looks up for a final glance at Seifer, brows furrowed in their usual pinch, but who is he kidding? What else are they going to say now? It's Garden's loss. That's what he should say. That's what he should say. But of course nothing comes out. ]

[cross_swords]

[Of course nothing comes out. It isn't Squall's style to act. He reacts. And even then he tries to observe when he can. In oh so many ways they are opposites. In others they are too alike to be able to connect.

Neither of them want left behind. Both of them expect it. One chooses to be undeniably memorable and the other just tries to fade into the background.

Except he can never do that around Seifer. Seifer always notices Squall. Always has. Always will. To the point that even now as they stand outside and Seifer breathes in the air he considers Squall. Looks at him. Watches.]

So why do you do it?

[vacantexpression]

[ He doesn't hate Seifer–he never has despite the whispers circulating around Garden–but in moments like this when observing him turns into being observed, Squall wants to shove him away and never look back. What does Seifer expect? This isn't how they do things. Field tactics, draw locations, paramagic manipulation and gunblade maintenance. These are the safe things to talk about.

Oh sure, Seifer will sometimes talk to him, sharing in whatever tangent his mind has wrapped around from whatever injustice he's recently witnessed, but it's never been expected that Squall reciprocate even if there's gentle needling to attempt as much. But now, with so much aired out between them, Squall can feel the way the scales have been tipped; how he and Seifer will never be the same if he doesn't rebalance them in some way.

Why does he do it? What else is he supposed to do with his life? What else is an orphan who only knows effective means of killing supposed to do except utilize the skills he's been taught to help further the agenda of the ones who took him in? If that's all he has then he might as well be good at it. He might as well be so good at it that he can do it on his own, able to uphold objectives even without team assistance. Preferably without team assistance.

His gaze cuts across the street so Squall can stare ahead instead of looking directly at Seifer. He doesn't want to see himself being measured as he considers his answer. Why does he do it? Why is Seifer asking him this? It seems cruel on the heels of knowing that Seifer thinks he's exactly the kind of lapdog SeeD is looking for. He hates that Seifer's probably right about that. ]

I'm good at it.

[ It's all he's good at but the whiplash of their vulnerability is a physical ache he wants to distance himself from. Like a limb that's been infected and needs severing. He doesn't want that part of himself on display, even after Seifer's paved the path for it, because all that remains is I'm not like you which keeps Squall from saying anything else. ]

[cross_swords]

You are.

[Seifer sighs and shakes his head. In his mind it just means that Squall does it for the same reason Seifer does: because what else does he have?]

And it doesn't make you mad? That this is all they give us? This is the only thing we're allowed to be in their minds? Obedient little dogs on a very expensive leash, or trash under their heels?

[vacantexpression]

[ They don't owe each other compliments and so Squall doesn't take it as one. It's pure data: like recognizing like. Except...

I'm not like you.

It's his turn to scoff. ]

Wanting more just means there's more to lose.

[ He hadn't meant to say it out loud but now that it's there, he crosses his arms to reflexively protect himself from the implications of it being known. Why crave a life beyond what's expected if all he'll have to show for it is a mirror of Seifer's own grief? ]

[cross_swords]

Really?

[Seifer shakes his head. Squall, that's a horrible way to live. Even Seifer had found what he could. Sure he's going to lose it, but he's spent the last years living. Has Squall?]

Guess you're just waiting for your princess to come in and sweep you off your feet? Give you a reason to really live or something? Or are you really going to use orders as your only purpose for living?

[vacantexpression]

[ The patented Leonhart eyeroll gives away exactly what he thinks of Seifer's theories. That flicker of annoyance gives way to something darker however. It's been chewing him up inside since he heard the words Galbadia and girlfriend which struck a chord in him to a tune he'd sworn to forget. Nothing good comes from recognizing its melody. ]

I'll make the best of it.

[ The crushing part is...Squall feels like he has. He's stronger than most everyone at the school, he has all the tools he needs to survive any life threatening scenario thrown at him, and he's been able to accomplish all of it because he's had Seifer.

And somehow that's not allowed to be enough? This is why he shouldn't want or rely on anyone. ]

Whatever.

[cross_swords]

[And there it is. The single word that Seifer knows translates into 'this conversation is over'. He knows better than to keep talking about it. He shrugs and starts down the road. It's a long walk back to campus after all.]

[vacantexpression]

[ Seeing Seifer's back fortifies Squall's resolve. This will be what it's like when they inevitably part ways. When Seifer passes the exam and decides he doesn't need their sparring to continue furthering his skillset. Or when he finally pushes himself to chase after that ineffable "more". Seifer will leave and Squall will be left behind. That's how it goes.

So he shoves his hands in his pockets and trudges along a few paces back, stuck in his own head where their disastrous conversation plays itself ad nauseam, aided by the strange twinge of guilt that settles in his gut over leaving the dog behind.

It takes the entire walk before he's convinced himself it wasn't his problem in the first place. It takes even longer until he shores up the courage to speak up, in the hallowed halls of campus no less just before the dorms: ] It's Garden's loss. If they don't pass you, it's their loss.

[ His gaze boldly flicks towards one of the roaming Garden faculty members then back to Seifer before Squall turns on his heel, abandoning their trajectory to head to the training center instead. He knows saying his piece won't amount to anything. It hadn't in the theater. But he'd spent the entire walk trying to bring it up between them only for it to blurt out at the last minute. The nerves of speaking up at all make the decision feel idiotic, but now the conversation can be over and he can pour all of his frustrations over how it went into the poor monsters that get in his way. ]

[cross_swords]

[By the time they are almost back Seifer barely even realizes Squall is still hovering around. But when the younger cadet opens his mouth Seifer turns to listen. For just a flicker of a moment he looks shocked. Then the normal arrogant smirk crosses his lips.

Everyone in the world is lesser when they lack Seifer in their presence, clearly.

But then Squall's making a tactical retreat, and Seifer snorts in amusement. Before shouting. Because who gives a fuck that he should speak at a respectful volume?]

Tomorrow morning. Usual spot. Gonna remind you just how much further you need to reach to be the best.

[vacantexpression]

[ The anxiety that had him strung taut lessens as Seifer bellows at his back. The familiarity of it outweighs whatever embarrassment Squall might have otherwise felt over such a display. This is the scales rebalancing and Squall clings to the promise of tomorrow like a life raft. They aren't done with this yet. They're not done with each other.

He suffocates the knowledge that he doesn't ever want to be done with this.

Instead he throws up a pair of fingers over his shoulder. An acknowledgment of the challenge. Then he drops his index so it's just his middle finger in the air. A parting shot and a wordless goodbye.

If he were the type of person to smile...this would have been the moment for it. ]

[cross_swords]

[Squall might not be the sort to smile. But damn, that one motion of flipping Seifer off leaves the man laughing. Loud and definitely enough to send a member of the faculty scurrying on over to chide him. Not Squall though. Because of course Squall doesn't get the risk of being yelled at for flipping Seifer off. Why would he? He's the 'good one' of the two gunbladers.

And honestly, detention doesn't bother Seifer enough to stop laughing either. Not when all this was too funny. The amusement does a lot to soothe away the lingering anger.

At least it does for the moment.]

[vacantexpression]

[ The best place to channel any lingering hostility is into their weaponry. That's how it's always worked and it's a wonder neither of them have needed to use phoenix downs on each other while navigating puberty. Now mostly on the other side of it, their gunblades have become a conduit of their anger where steel can crash against steel in a well timed ballet of brute force and violence.

They've had years of this and that familiarity has made it so that neither of them can rest comfortably on their laurels or rely on the same old tricks. The second one of them falls into any kind of repetition, the other is there to take advantage. So it goes the following morning when they meet up.

He's still in his head about yesterday and it shows in the way he parries or blocks. Usually when they spar, Squall can tap into the flow of their duel, losing himself to the rhythm of it that always leaves him feeling satisfyingly spent. Today he feels like he's on his back foot and by the time they've called the match with a gritted out "Enough" from Squall, there's nothing but exhaustion and an edge of having not quite gotten what he needed from their fight.

He knows his limits though. There's a clean slice across his shoulder, down through to his chest. The result of not blocking quickly enough which handicapped him for the remainder of their session. Now as they're winding down, Squall peels the wet fabric away from his skin to inspect the damage. It's too bloody to see how deep it is but since he can still move his arm, it can't be too terrible. ]

You could have pulled the trigger earlier. [ He points it out around his panting and the grimace that pinches his expression as he applies pressure to the wound. There was a split second before Squall had been able to get Revolver up and under Hyperion. If Seifer had wanted to, Squall suspects he could have ended things a lot sooner then and there. ]

[cross_swords]

And you could have not chosen a day so close to the exam to push yourself through an injury.

[The sparring had been great, until the injury. Frankly, it never should have happened. Seifer was absolutely certain of that fact. Squall was too good by this point for such a rookie mistake of leaving himself open like that. Hyne, Seifer still wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed as much as he had given Squall's two-handed style should have given him more protection, not less. But the injury is what it is and even Seifer had realized it was too much rather sooner than he liked to admit.

The thing was, there was no pushing Squall to stop. He had to do it in his own time. Now that it's done he sets his blade aside on a flat topped rock and moves forward.]

Do you have any cure spells stocked, or am I going to have to deal with this for you?

[vacantexpression]

[ That the exam is on the horizon is reason enough for Squall to push himself. He has no way of knowing if they'll be assigned to the same squad, but if they are, he wants to make himself formidable enough to be a clear equal to Seifer. Not just that, he wants Garden to acknowledge the fact that they make each other better. Why have a single gunblader on SeeD's roster when they can have two?

The inverse of that is if he can't get his head on straight, he might be a liability to them both.

He tries not to think of that as he props Revolver up against one of the larger rocks so that Seifer can get a better look at the damage. Squall knows he's better than this, but the nagging annoyance in the back of his head is second to the throb of the wound in his shoulder. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off it hurts like a bitch. ]

Just the one.

[ Which means...yeah, Seifer will probably have to help. Squall sucks a sharp breath through his teeth to brace himself for the first spell. It pumps through him with a crackle of frost that spreads briefly out from under his palm and into the torn skin. Using Shiva as his conduit for draws has always felt more natural than Quezacotl, especially when Cures are concerned. The chill of her trace magic numbs some of the pain and it's enough to stop the bleeding but not enough to fully close the wound.

He removes his hand from over it with a sigh before looking up at Seifer. ] Your turn.

[ It's probably an exercise in futility, but Squall hopes that by refusing to ask for the spell, Seifer won't try to make him grovel for it. ]

[cross_swords]

[While Squall's magic had the touch of Shiva to it, Seifer's had Ifrit for two years now, and his bond to the fiery summon was obvious in the roll of warmth as he cast the heal spell. His fingers hovered the whole time just above the skin, so close to being ready to truly touch.]

Damn idiot. If you were fighting someone less good than me, you could get seriously hurt. You need to keep more cures on you.

[vacantexpression]

[ The heat results in a gentle rush of steam beneath Seifer's palm and the effects of the Cure help to unwind the tension Squall's been carrying since arriving at the site. After pushing himself, he'll need either a long soak beneath the shower's spray or to work his fingers through the aches of newly healed skin and that thought makes the hover of Seifer's hand tempting.

He doesn't often get to feel the gentler effects of Seifer's magic (or the gentler effects of Seifer's anything) so Squall takes a moment to absorb and breathe through it before scoffing at the implication that anyone lesser could have gotten under his skin let alone his guard. ]

I'll restock.

[ There's no point arguing. Instead he slides his hand beneath the space where Seifer's is hovering so he can feel out the new tissue, fingers slipping through the torn fabric. ]

Fire Cavern? [ His brow arches, inquiring about the source of the heat from the Cure and its potential draw site, all while being hyper conscious of the minimal space between them that's common in their post-battle assessment of each other. ]