The beach was calm. The sky was blue. The breeze was cool and refreshing,
the sand was unblemished and golden...except for the small figure sitting
silently in its midst, lost amongst the suns rays as they glinted off the
pure blue water. The perspective suddenly shifted, lurching, swaying,
fading out, and then re-appearing beside the figure as it swayed its arms
and glided in the sand. It always started like this.
"What is that? What have you got?" "Nothing," came that same bland reply; the boy continued to play, not even gracing a glance upwards, or an acknowledgement of anyone's existence whatsoever. "Yeah it is, you idiot, give it here!"
The small warrior figurine, grasping its small wooden blade in its finely carved hands, was snatched from the little boy without being hindered by resistance of any kind. But then there never was. The little dark haired kid just stared up at him; hand still out held from being pulled at, fingers still curled as the ghost of the toy lingered there, eyes shining with unshed tears. His dark mop of hair shifted unruly in the breeze.
"Quit being such a cry baby." "That's mine," the voice was weak as a stray tear fell unnoticed down the cheek of the crouching figure. "Yeah, well I wanit' so shut up."
The sound of the crashing waves broke the serine silence and thee shrill shriek of a gull made the perspective waver and distort. The sudden barrage of noise reverberated around the fragile scene, making it shake and twist. The beach became shrouded in shadow, the noises suddenly becoming overwhelming in their intensity. The water shivered, the gulls became many, the wind began to whistle fiercely. The little boys' choked sobs found themselves lost in the cacophony...but then it stopped. As it always did. The perspective slowly dissolved back into view, and it was that same scene again, the one that always followed.
"Are you listening?" the woman's hair was long and dark and soft.
The room was dark, shards of light stabbing through the gloom giving the room an eerie feel. It was a distant memory now, that scolding face, but it was vivid here. The little row of beds, the half closed curtains, the far off crashing of waves that still lingered from the beach.
"You can't keep doing this, you can't just hurt people," her voice swam around the room, merging with the darkness, pulling the eyes instinctively towards the figure near the window. A single shard of the invasive light cut across his handsome, now teenage face. His dark hair fell rebelliously around his cheeks, framing his profile.
His eyes still held those unshed tears, those glassy orbs staring now, boring in with their intensity. Yet they were not afraid anymore, not upset, they were dead and emotionless. His right eye held a blossoming bruise, ugly and gashed with red. He'd been punched hard. And despite the lack of feeling, there was a horrible sense of betrayal and hurt in the air. He looked away then, his eyes glinting in the light. Then the figure suddenly curled in on himself and disappeared in a wave off light, taking the room with him as if sucking it with him wherever he had decided to go, leaving a new place behind him. Again the usual scene began to come into focus after the moment of disorientation. There were grass and flowers as far as the eye could see, and their seeds were floating in the air swirling around the pale white fluffy clouds that danced in the sky. It was moving in and out of focus, settling in and then distancing itself again, the landscape finally beginning to take some sort of plausible form. But then he was there again, standing stark and serene in the delightful chaos. The bruise was gone, but there was a small scar, slighting on his pale beautiful face, fading fast but not fast enough. He turned, noticing another presence, and looked through the swirling masses of flowers and grass as they uprooted in the wind. His eyes twinkled in the sun, but again the perspective twisted in on itself and then he was right there, arm outstretched warily. The sky decided to turn and interesting shade of indigo, casting his striking features into a hopeless magnificence of beauty. The fingers curled slightly, welcomingly.
"Friends?" his voice was calm, yet his eyes seemed to retain that dead look, that look that had been put there through anger and countless stupid mistakes that should never have had to mar that wondering expression. "Is that what you want to be?" "Yes," he replied, pushing his hand forward more confidently as a dandelion caught in his hair and swayed there delicately. "You know that if you come here..." "That I can find you?" his smile was like creation itself, that wondering shyness never before having graced this life. "Yes, I promise." "Then I'll be here," he nodded, the vision beginning to cloud, but in that final moment his hand was grasped, as it always was, and the promise sealed.
The flowers began to thicken, obscuring his face, taking that wondering look away, but the hands were still there, still clasped...I could feel it...
"But I...!" I suddenly found myself, as I always did, sitting up, jolted from the sheets like a madman, sweat pouring from every available pore and my hand held out futilely still curved as if to grasp something precious, "...I..."
But then the dream always finished like that, with that stupid promise, and me like an idiot sitting in my dark empty room trying to tell the difference between sweat and tears. I never cried, not like this and only this stupid dream could make me. I drew in a breath of stifling air and spat.
"Stupid fucking asshole!" I growled quietly, "Haunt me will you? We'll see about that."
Yet, despite my brazen threats to a certain dark haired "friend" of mine, I never could work up the courage to place that final wall between us. I just wanted to...to meet him there...to take him up in my arms...
"You bastard!" I decided to not care who heard me and shouted instead of just hissing as I usually did, "Who said you could do this to me, huh?"
-...I promise-
The ghost of a memory fleeted through my thoughts, answering my question annoyingly.
"Yeah, well, I can undo my fucking promises can't I," I mumbled into the sweat soaked rumpled sheets that bunched around my knees, "I can do what the hell I want..."
No one had ever managed to stop me before, not even him. I mean, I bet he doesn't even remember, it was hard enough for me to do so and I had been trying to remember on purpose. I didn't see Squall as the type to try and remember his past. Whereas Seifer Almasy, well he was his own man, and no one was going to tell him what to do. I didn't want this, this stupid lack of control! I didn't want to feel this stupid helplessness towards him, it was bugging the hell out of me!
"I'm going to settle this," I said gravely, ignoring the first pangs of dawn that crept through the window, "once and for all."
"What is that? What have you got?" "Nothing," came that same bland reply; the boy continued to play, not even gracing a glance upwards, or an acknowledgement of anyone's existence whatsoever. "Yeah it is, you idiot, give it here!"
The small warrior figurine, grasping its small wooden blade in its finely carved hands, was snatched from the little boy without being hindered by resistance of any kind. But then there never was. The little dark haired kid just stared up at him; hand still out held from being pulled at, fingers still curled as the ghost of the toy lingered there, eyes shining with unshed tears. His dark mop of hair shifted unruly in the breeze.
"Quit being such a cry baby." "That's mine," the voice was weak as a stray tear fell unnoticed down the cheek of the crouching figure. "Yeah, well I wanit' so shut up."
The sound of the crashing waves broke the serine silence and thee shrill shriek of a gull made the perspective waver and distort. The sudden barrage of noise reverberated around the fragile scene, making it shake and twist. The beach became shrouded in shadow, the noises suddenly becoming overwhelming in their intensity. The water shivered, the gulls became many, the wind began to whistle fiercely. The little boys' choked sobs found themselves lost in the cacophony...but then it stopped. As it always did. The perspective slowly dissolved back into view, and it was that same scene again, the one that always followed.
"Are you listening?" the woman's hair was long and dark and soft.
The room was dark, shards of light stabbing through the gloom giving the room an eerie feel. It was a distant memory now, that scolding face, but it was vivid here. The little row of beds, the half closed curtains, the far off crashing of waves that still lingered from the beach.
"You can't keep doing this, you can't just hurt people," her voice swam around the room, merging with the darkness, pulling the eyes instinctively towards the figure near the window. A single shard of the invasive light cut across his handsome, now teenage face. His dark hair fell rebelliously around his cheeks, framing his profile.
His eyes still held those unshed tears, those glassy orbs staring now, boring in with their intensity. Yet they were not afraid anymore, not upset, they were dead and emotionless. His right eye held a blossoming bruise, ugly and gashed with red. He'd been punched hard. And despite the lack of feeling, there was a horrible sense of betrayal and hurt in the air. He looked away then, his eyes glinting in the light. Then the figure suddenly curled in on himself and disappeared in a wave off light, taking the room with him as if sucking it with him wherever he had decided to go, leaving a new place behind him. Again the usual scene began to come into focus after the moment of disorientation. There were grass and flowers as far as the eye could see, and their seeds were floating in the air swirling around the pale white fluffy clouds that danced in the sky. It was moving in and out of focus, settling in and then distancing itself again, the landscape finally beginning to take some sort of plausible form. But then he was there again, standing stark and serene in the delightful chaos. The bruise was gone, but there was a small scar, slighting on his pale beautiful face, fading fast but not fast enough. He turned, noticing another presence, and looked through the swirling masses of flowers and grass as they uprooted in the wind. His eyes twinkled in the sun, but again the perspective twisted in on itself and then he was right there, arm outstretched warily. The sky decided to turn and interesting shade of indigo, casting his striking features into a hopeless magnificence of beauty. The fingers curled slightly, welcomingly.
"Friends?" his voice was calm, yet his eyes seemed to retain that dead look, that look that had been put there through anger and countless stupid mistakes that should never have had to mar that wondering expression. "Is that what you want to be?" "Yes," he replied, pushing his hand forward more confidently as a dandelion caught in his hair and swayed there delicately. "You know that if you come here..." "That I can find you?" his smile was like creation itself, that wondering shyness never before having graced this life. "Yes, I promise." "Then I'll be here," he nodded, the vision beginning to cloud, but in that final moment his hand was grasped, as it always was, and the promise sealed.
The flowers began to thicken, obscuring his face, taking that wondering look away, but the hands were still there, still clasped...I could feel it...
"But I...!" I suddenly found myself, as I always did, sitting up, jolted from the sheets like a madman, sweat pouring from every available pore and my hand held out futilely still curved as if to grasp something precious, "...I..."
But then the dream always finished like that, with that stupid promise, and me like an idiot sitting in my dark empty room trying to tell the difference between sweat and tears. I never cried, not like this and only this stupid dream could make me. I drew in a breath of stifling air and spat.
"Stupid fucking asshole!" I growled quietly, "Haunt me will you? We'll see about that."
Yet, despite my brazen threats to a certain dark haired "friend" of mine, I never could work up the courage to place that final wall between us. I just wanted to...to meet him there...to take him up in my arms...
"You bastard!" I decided to not care who heard me and shouted instead of just hissing as I usually did, "Who said you could do this to me, huh?"
-...I promise-
The ghost of a memory fleeted through my thoughts, answering my question annoyingly.
"Yeah, well, I can undo my fucking promises can't I," I mumbled into the sweat soaked rumpled sheets that bunched around my knees, "I can do what the hell I want..."
No one had ever managed to stop me before, not even him. I mean, I bet he doesn't even remember, it was hard enough for me to do so and I had been trying to remember on purpose. I didn't see Squall as the type to try and remember his past. Whereas Seifer Almasy, well he was his own man, and no one was going to tell him what to do. I didn't want this, this stupid lack of control! I didn't want to feel this stupid helplessness towards him, it was bugging the hell out of me!
"I'm going to settle this," I said gravely, ignoring the first pangs of dawn that crept through the window, "once and for all."