Author's Note: Had this on my computer for a month or so. Hopefully I've been a good participant of the Write Better Seifer/Olette Fic movement (which I just founded right now)!

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts.

The Last High

He stepped out of the train station onto the familiar sun-soaked steps of Twilight Plaza. In a fashion true to his hometown, nothing appeared to have changed: the sun was a suspended orange orb among the clouds, still until evening latched its starry claws to the sky and pulled it out of sight. It felt like all those years away had been rewound and recycled – that fate, mischievous as she was, always knew he'd find his way back here.

Seifer crossed the cobbles and entered the shadowed path of Market Street. It was hard to remain detached, to not take too much interest in how the world turned under an everlasting sunset. The crates that were always sitting outside the garage were gone, the neat number painted on the door obscured by sickly yellow graffiti. The shops he passed had changed management or, like a chameleon, switched colors in the sun. Kids ran or floated by on skateboards (he couldn't believe he was ever that small), while some huddled in puddles of sunlight, hunched over cards or tops. Not a struggle bat in sight.

He noticed Hayner and his gang's old haunt was almost the same as ever. A glance down the alley painted the portrait of a dilapidated old couch, stripped of cushions and shrugging lowly to the ground; and a sun-bleached red sheet, torn from its hangings and grasping feebly at a chain-link fence. No one there.

He checked the number on his hand and tried to smile politely when people recognized him. Everyone was so much older now. Jessie, who used to run the accessory shop, had a toddler pulling at her dress. Seifer remembered his teenage crush on her (and just about everyone else's), back when she tied her long blond hair back and welcomed customers with a wink. It was cut short now, and she winked only at the man behind the counter of the shop, gold wedding band flashing in the twilight.

The tram twilled as it chugged by, slowing for a bit while Seifer walked beside the tracks. He waved flippantly, and the driver continued on. How lazy was this town, to ride the train across such a small square? It was something he noticed back then, too, and it still bothered him now.

He came upon a row of apartments, fairly squat two-story buildings bathed in rusty yellows or faded pinks. Seifer ascended the steps of the one whose digits matched those written messily on his palm and walked right in. So many years away almost made him forget how trusting Twilight Town was. No buzzer, no locks, no fear. Nice, even if it irritated him. But most nice things did.

It was much cooler inside, especially upstairs. He hadn't even realized he'd been sweating until cold air stuck to his skin, crisp and inviting. It was a calming contrast to the sticky warmth outside. There was the second set of numbers, the ones he didn't need to look at to remember, the ones that kept spinning around in his head, reminding him why he'd come back in the first place. Two-two.

There was no hint of movement, no whisper of business behind the closed door. For a second he considered returning later. Stupid. He didn't travel all this way to turn tail, and if no one was home, then it wasn't his fault. He knocked – loudly, probably harder than he needed to – before he could think on it anymore. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and waited.

It wasn't a minute before the door yawned lazily open (not even a "who is it?" first. This town was too small, too safe) and curious green eyes peeked through. "I'm sorry, I really don't…"

A very, very long pause. The silence got under his skin, even as he observed what slivers of her he could. Chocolate brown hair, past her shoulders, like always. Voice she could never stop from lilting, even if she were mad. Skin touched lightly by living in a never waning sunset, and nails too short to be feminine.

"Seifer?"

He straightened, hands balled in his jacket. "Hey, Olette."

"What are you… Come in!" The door swung wide and she flattened herself to the far wall, admitting more room than was necessary. Seifer usually liked it when people made way for him, but Olette's gaze stuck to the floor had his fists clenching tighter. He walked in, grabbing the door and closing it behind him before she had the chance to.

"I didn't know you were coming," she said, too flustered to hide the quirk of a smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought I'd visit." He told himself that it didn't really matter, but asked anyway, "Were you busy?"

She wiped her hands on the apron she was wearing. "No, not really, just baking something. Come on, there's more room in the kitchen."

She led him through a narrow hallway, painted a cheery orange brighter than the buildings strewn about the common. Mismatched pictures hung on the walls, fifteen-year-old memories smiling as he passed, holding sea-salt ice cream or blue bats. He even spied a faded, cracked struggle poster as they walked through the quaint living room. It was tacked above a white couch, blinds casting slit sunrays onto it. Sneering, Seifer pushed it to the back of his mind as they entered the dining room and adjoined kitchen.

It really hadn't taken them long to get there, which also irritated him. She was living in an embarrassingly small apartment.

"So, you were just around, is that it?" Olette didn't look at him. Instead she busied herself with kneading something that was more flour than dough. He remembered stealing a cookie she'd made for Hayner a few years back and having stomach pains all night – he didn't want to be the first to test if she'd improved at all at baking.

"You could say that." He could say that, but it'd be a lie, so he didn't.

Silence was suspended between them, which neither of them wanted to break. Olette kept her eyes on her hands as she flattened the dough, then folded it into a ball, then flattened it again. Seifer took this as an opportunity to observe more of her apartment.

It was shamelessly domestic. Pots and pans glinted above the oven, and most of the counters were covered in flour. (It was all over Olette too, up her arms and under her apron and smeared on her cheeks.) Tucked into the shadows under the wall cupboards were everyday appliances he'd never associated with her before: a mixer, a blender, a kettle. By the stove was a knife-block and a jar of assorted spoons. There was no dishwasher that he could see, but plates and cups and forks stuck out oddly from a mass of bubbles in the sink.

The only thing non-kitcheny about it was the windowsill. Floral-print curtains were drawn back, and a vase of blue and white flowers soaked up the sunlight. There were other odds and ends there too, bits of personal memorabilia. He didn't know the significance to any of them, except one little colored sphere he recognized from the year he almost lost to Hayner. The guy made such a fuss about Seifer supposedly cheating that he just gave him the cheap-ass trophy and walked away. Apparently it meant a lot more to Olette than it ever had to him.

The last trinket was a wooden picture frame, not very large. Behind the glass was the glossy semblance of a man with dark brown hair, smiling widely. He was waving at the camera from behind the counter of one of the shops – maybe the weapon vender. He looked much taller and thinner than Seifer recalled. He didn't even ask before plucking the frame from the sill.

"So, Pence, huh?"

"I did mention that in the letters." She still wasn't looking up, but in the time he'd spent wandering her kitchen, she'd rolled the dough into a thin sheet and was laying it over what appeared to be cherry pie.

"Yeah, that he was working in town." If he still used the word, he'd call it lame. Who spent their entire life in their hometown? At least Olette had a reason. Pence, Seifer thought, was just sad.

"He manages the weapon shop now," she said proudly, as if he were supposed to care – as if Pence was the reason he was there now. "Says he's gonna run a whole chain of stores, one on every world."

"Right," he droned, placing the picture back none-too-gently. He purposely slid the frame behind the bunched curtain. Something about the way Pence smiled, all slimmed down and grown up, made Seifer's teeth grind. "You and Pence, then. You guys –"

"Roommates?" she interrupted and, closing the oven door on her pie and setting the timer, looked up at him. Olette was smiling, a bit mischievously actually. "Sure are."

"Good."

"Good?" She laughed. "You're still weird, Seifer."

Finally, she sounded a bit like Olette. Surprising, catching him off guard like she used to. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. You still talk to me and look down on them." She frowned. "Just because he lives here doesn't make him any less of a success than you."

He looked away, watching the seconds on the timer rather than Olette face or Pence's photo. "Whatever."

She shrugged, untying her apron and hanging it on a hook. While washing her hands, she changed the subject. "The pie's gonna be a while, and I'm sure you don't want to stay holed up in my little apartment. It's been what… five years since you've been in town? When did you get here? Have you gone to Sunset Terrace yet?"

He'd thought about it, but Olette's was the first place he'd decided to go. It was really the only place he intended to go, if he were being honest. "Not yet."

"Wanna go?" Wiping a checkered towel up and down her wet arms, she grabbed a pair of keys from a drawer and turned to him. "It's still free."

Plenty of words ran through his mind. Nah. Fine. Okay. Sure. Yeah. Great. "Whatever."

They spent the ride to Sunset Terrace in silence. Seifer was sure Olette wasn't speaking because she thought he was experiencing nostalgia. Really, there wasn't that much worth remembering about Twilight Town. The years had flown by in a messy swirl of sunsets, school and struggle tournaments. Anything he might've missed left with him: Fuu, Rai, and Vivi all had the good sense to get out while they could. He'd always thought they were the smart ones – but when his eyes flickered to Olette, he felt more like they were the lucky ones.

Sunset Terrace probably meant more to him than the Tram Common or anywhere else. His best days were spent out here (they were his best because Hayner and his gang didn't drop by often; they preferred their little alley hovel). Walking down the steps, he didn't realize he'd been counting them until he's stopped. The memory of Rai being his stupid self blinked in and out of existence; Seifer shook his head and walked on.

He couldn't help it, though. He thought of Fuu, the way she was then: a head shorter than him, placid, quick. She hadn't changed much, though she got taller, and she spoke a little more now. That didn't stop her from just saying "goodbye" when he left the Land of Dragons. She hadn't written since, but that wasn't surprising. He couldn't imagine her composing a very long letter.

Fuu was actually the last one to be traveling with him. Vivi left at their first stop, Hollow Bastion, after meeting a man named Merlin. Vivi always did have a sort of knack – fires got hotter when he was around, or any flowers he raised grew faster and fuller than they were naturally supposed to. Merlin told them it wasn't just luck – it was magic. Vivi cried and cried and cried through his farewell, but he still wrote letters, and sent lots of pictures and even some spells he encouraged Seifer to learn. Seifer tried a basic one once and nearly burned all his hair off, but he still enjoyed the letters.

Rai, oddly to no one's surprise, watched them leave from a world called Atlantica. Neither Fuu nor Seifer were very fond of it (which was putting it lightly. Seifer asked Fuu what she thought of the water world, and Fuu replied, "Suicide"). But once he got there, Rai couldn't be shut up. He became fast friends with a fish (a fish of all things! Seifer still couldn't believe it) and a girl named Ariel. He even fell pretty quickly in love with one of her sisters, Andrina. Fuu and Seifer couldn't tear him away with a crowbar, and even though Rai begged them to stay, they all went their separate ways. Seifer got letters from Rai too, but not often because Rai had to sneak above the surface to write in ink. He wasn't exactly great at writing letters anyway, though.

The only other person Seifer ever wrote to was Olette. For the longest time, he hadn't wanted to talk to her. Then he came upon a place called Destiny Islands and met a girl named Selphie who reminded him so strongly of her, he couldn't exactly stop himself. He regretted sending it for a while, even hoped it wouldn't reach its destination. He got over it pretty quickly when Olette wrote back. She was still in Twilight Town, even at twenty. In the pictures, the only thing that looked different was her.

This place hadn't changed much on the surface either. The tram tweeted as it went by, but they took the long way, along the terrace that overlooked the sea so very far away. There were more people, but they seemed to be of the same type: kids looking for trouble, and lots of couples. Seifer stared straight ahead, even when Olette would giggle at something. Hell, she might've even been giggling at him. But there wasn't a point in pretending that being away for five years made him suddenly develop a reason to like these people. Especially when they still weren't following Disciplinary Committee Guidelines (he had to stop himself from enforcing a couple on their trek to Sunset Hill).

Surprisingly, no one was watching the sun sink from what was so commonly referred to as "the romantic spot." Olette commented on this as they stepped up to the hill's edge, where it was warmest.

"People don't come here too much anymore," she said. "Not since the terrace expanded. You can keep walking up now, and get an even better view. But I still prefer this one. Brings back memories, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess."

She sighed, turning from the horizon to sit down on a worn wooden bench. "Okay, Seifer, what is it? You obviously haven't missed Twilight Town much, so why are you here?"

He had forgotten how blunt she could be. Not the way Hayner was (bluntly abrasive) or Pence was (bluntly unintelligent). She was just straight to the point – something he liked about her.

"I told you," he said, taking a seat beside her and reclining comfortably. It was quite the contrast from her: knee to knee, hands folded politely in her lap. "I'm just visiting."

"Visiting what?" She sounded mostly interested, a bit exasperated. "The way you look at things, it's like you hate it here. So why did you come back? To feel better about your life?"

Seifer hated that line. She always used it, back then and even now, and it drove him crazy. "Don't think so highly of yourself," he scoffed.

"Me? Think highly of myself?" Olette laughed. "At my most conceited, I could never match you, Seifer. You look down on everyone in this town, just because they're here."

"So?" he challenged. "Yeah, fine. I find it sad that some people are still here after five years. I mean, come on, Olette. Manager of a weapon shop? Excuse me for dreaming big."

At this point, she stopped being amused. "Well, some of us don't have a choice."

He braced his elbows on his knees, rubbing his face. Why did things always seem to go this way with her? "I didn't mean you."

"Doesn't matter," she said, voice clipped. "Doesn't give you the right to be such a jerk. We all grew up. Why haven't you?"

In truth, he really had matured quite a bit. Traveling did that to you. He had a new appreciation for people he always thought were sheep. He'd seen things that changed him, made him feel guilty or sad or small like he'd never felt back here. But the second he stepped into Twilight Town, he went straight back to sixteen-year-old Seifer. And that, if nothing else, was pretty lame.

"Sorry," he muttered more than said, but made sure it was loud enough to be clear. Olette blinked. Had she ever heard him say that before?

"Uh…" Apparently not. It took her a minute to finish her thought. "That's all right."

"Something about this town…" he went on, but stopped. "I don't like it." Maybe it reminded him of how, no matter how much he thought otherwise, he was never actually happy here.

"Sure," she said, her voice softer. She leaned forward, cupping her chin in her palm, looking out at the orange dyed sky. "It makes me sad, too."

"Then why are you here? Your dad…" Five years ago, he might've finished that sentence. For know, he'd let her fill in the rest.

It came to him like a bolt of lightning: she'd been down at the Sandlot around midnight, and they'd been talking. It wasn't the first time. They met there a lot, especially after that Sora boy came to town and all the worlds opened up. They talked about learning to fly a gummi ship (which sounded less and less stupid as time went on), or what worlds they'd visit once they graduated from school. Seifer just wanted to travel, to go to any and everyplace that wasn't Twilight Town. Olette, on the other hand, wanted to see what kind of universities other worlds could offer, and learn as much as she could. After that, neither of them knew what they wanted to do. But even though they never actually said it, they wanted to do it together.

Then, around the time Olette turned eighteen, her dad had fallen ill. Seifer had already graduated, but was sticking around for her to get out of school. But the sicker her dad got, the more school she had to miss, and the less she went to the Sandlot. Her grades dropped, and she barely graduated when the time came. Still, he already had his bags packed for the next ship off their little world when Olette told him she couldn't go. She wouldn't leave her dad, and if she ever wanted to get into a good university on any world, she'd have to upgrade her courses. He called her a perfectionist, but she brushed it off and told him it was just something she had to do. It was responsibility. He was too angry and disappointed and angry to recognize she was on the very edge of tears.

She didn't want to hold him back, so she told him to go. He did, even brought Vivi and Rai and Fuu with him to make her jealous – and it took him five years to realize that she'd actually been asking him to stay.

"I know. And he felt bad, like he was always holding me back. I told him he wasn't, but… I think he still died a little guilty." He could tell she was struggling to keep in a sigh. "And Pence… I can't just leave him."

"He's twenty-three, Olette. He has to grow up sometime." He paused, expecting her to argue. When she didn't, he went on, "Doesn't he have any other friends?"

"Yeah," she remarked. "He's been dating the ticket girl at the station, actually."

"Then –"

"It's not the same thing." Now, she did sigh. "You have no idea how hard it was on him when Hayner left. He wouldn't even read his letters for a year. Hayner offered to take him along, but Pence doesn't want to leave. This is his home."

"That's his excuse," said Seifer. "What's yours?"

Olette pulled fingers through her hair. Emotions flickered across her face: sadness, excitement, frustration. "It's complicated. I'm not eighteen anymore, Seifer."

"Exactly." He rose up suddenly from the bench, spinning to face her, arms held wide out as if to emphasize all the possibilities. "This is your second chance."

She glowered, giving him an obvious look. "I have a job."

Seifer crossed his arms. "Quit."

"I go to school!" she half laughed.

He bent down, eyes staring right into hers. "Transfer."

Her cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink and she looked away. "Seifer…"

"Come on." He knelt, balancing on the balls of his feet. This close, he could see specks of flour she hadn't noticed. They dotted her cheeks like snowflakes – and even looked kind of cute over her sunspot freckles. "You're the one who's always telling other people not to make excuses."

He looked so serious, she had to laugh. She laughed and laughed until her eyes swelled shut and she was crying, she was laughing so hard – or maybe it was the other way around. Olette wrapped her hands around her middle, folding forward until she couldn't laugh anymore, couldn't cry anymore, couldn't breathe anymore. She wiped her red cheeks and said, "You really think it's that easy?"

"No," he told her. "I just think a gummi ship's a pretty big place for one person."

She smiled, fussing with her hair as thoughts rolled around in her head. She looked from her shaking hands to the horizon, and realized for the first time in five years that it looked exactly like it did when she was fifteen. Nothing around here was going to change much. Except her.

"So," Seifer said, making his voice as firm as he could until it almost sounded like a threat. They both knew that kind of thing never worked on Olette, but to him it was better than sounding sentimental. "You coming with me this time?"

She thought of Pence, who went to work that morning only expecting to come home to pie and another night by the television. She thought of Twilight Town University and the bachelor of arts program she'd been slaving over. She thought of her father's grave, and how his last smile seemed a bit forced. She thought of Twilight Town and the sun that almost never moved in the sky, of Hayner on some far-off world, of every chance she never took – of a boy in a white jacket and a sandlot.

Just then, something brushed her cheek; a smeared spot of white flour was on Seifer's calloused finger.

Olette smiled. I can't. I guess. Okay. All right. Yes! "Whatever."