 |
 |
 |
A Nightingale's Song[07.05.01] » by Ani K. I embraced a dream The night before. The air was of musty pinks, And there we stood- Smiling we were, Dancing in a sweet dream, As you fumbled with syrupy words. But a cream rose danced >From your hand- Wisps of frustrated crimson Writing your heart. And the sky was a quiet ebony, But through a long lost echo, A nightingale softly whispered-- For you, for me, for those willing to listen. ====== I. ====== Dust danced with the light's rays, slicing through the
tilted blinds of the window. The rays gently tickled the man's skin, and he
blinked to reveal his deep emerald eyes. They seemed a bit gray at the moment,
as if a subtle film swept over his saddened irises. He grumbled a bit under his
breath, languidly bringing himself to his feet, brushing golden locks away from
his eyes, gently rubbing the back of his neck. He allowed air to seep into his
lungs in a steady breath. The air was musty, congested. It crept soundlessly,
blanketing his eyes in a sad loneliness, and Seifer couldn't see. He wished he could simply walk away from those murky
sheets, but just as he thought his eyes met clear air, white mists folded
before his eyes again. But he would walk anyway. He muttered a few jumbled curses under his breath
before shoving the wooden door and entering the sidewalk paths of Balamb
Garden. The wind gently caressed his hair, and the blossoms by his side smelled
of sweet nectar, but Seifer took no mind to it. He simply walked for the sake
of walking, seeking no set purpose in his venture; rather, he was *searching*
for the purpose itself. He had walked aimlessly in his life before, just as a
rock cascades carelessly in a rapid river; there is no definite path of the
stone, but instead it searches for an end, for a certain truth. But as he
walked solemnly in the cobblestone paths of the garden, there was a certain
hopeless sadness in his eyes. Even cold stone couldn't chill the searing
effects of the lonely flame. Nothing could. He had thought about talking to Fujin or desperately
enough, Rajin. But what the hell could they do? Rajin could jump up and down
zealously, clutching a putrid smelling trout in his hand. Fujin…yes Fujin was
devoted, and at times he thought that she could understand the bitter emptiness
swirling about in his gut, but she was far too cold to offer him any shred of
light; she was too much like him. But something told him that there was
something else that caused those invisible wounds, something far too
deep-rooted for them to understand. Wind blew against his gold hair and his stomach
churned. /Damn this./ It softly whistled its way, ruffling the leaves in a
sort of empty dance. The emerald blades allowed the wind to drag, to pull upon
them and then suddenly release its hold; they drooped alone. Seifer continued
his walk. It didn't seem to do much good; everything around him reeked of
loneliness, something lost and infinitely sorrowful. His eyes met sapphire irises, curiously glancing at a
flower lying in her delicate hands. She fingered it tenderly, the cream petals
of the blossom soaked in gems of dew. Seifer in response simply squeezed his
eyes in disgust. "Damn Trepe,"he mumbled, his voice stinging
with regret. "Hello, Seifer." she coolly replied,
continuing to finger the flower. Seifer rolled his eyes, his steps rhythmically
vibrating on the stone pavement. Damn Trepe. She always held a certain
artificial tenderness in her eyes, always *appearing* as if she cared. Bull,
pure bull. She pretended to care, only to earn respect, to elevate herself in
social standing. She didn't care; she only ruined everything. A distant voice mumbled darkly to such thoughts, but
Seifer readily laid it to rest, continuing to walk away. Trepe glanced towards
Seifer; a thin sheet of sorrow subtly entrenched her eyes as she continued to
gracefully finger the cream rose. The wind whispered once more, delicately
lifting a single petal from the flower, offering it to the hands of the tired
warrior. Seifer glared at the petal; he clenched his fist, about to crumble it
within his very hands, but… It was so soft. /Damn wind/ The wind too was soft that day, and the air carried a
scent of vanilla musk, something of a fairy tale only known in dreams. But
there lay dreams embedded in cruel nightmares; many eyes waver beneath the
looming rays of faraway dreams, only finding themselves battered at the end of
the race. The race had seemed long and tiresome, but in the end, he had only
found it to be with himself. And he had learned one thing; within everyone
there lay an inevitable solitude crooning in the distance. Seifer simply
assumed it had arrived early in life. But it didn't seem that way five years
ago. Warm emotions never seem wrong when they occur; they intoxicate the mind,
clouding it softly with a dangerously seductive scent. Seifer knew. It was too
late though, far too late. Seifer winced slightly, painfully fingering the
blossom. The cream petal unfolded nostalgic sheets, softly
crying in tiny dew crystals. He closed his eyes to embrace the blanket. =========== II. =========== *** 1. A whipping crack echoed from the shadowed corridor.
The raging roar arose again; a faint whimper echoed from the boy's lips, but he
dare not cry. That would make his father very mad. A crimson trail slid down his lip, and a tear melded
with the scarlet rivulet. His mummy had already gone. He'd never gotten to see
her eyes. Maybe they would have been warm; maybe they wouldn't have been filled
with flames. A familiar thud crashed upon his shoulders once more. It didn't
hurt as much now. He felt a slight amount of pressure against his back, but
maybe his daddy wasn't mad at him now. Maybe he was hugging him tenderly- like
his dream. There were puffy white clouds filling the air, and in
a meadow his father would embrace him, just about to whisper the words, "I
love you." But just as the words were to echo from his lips, they slanted
darkly into a sinister smirk. The white clouds darkened to ebony, and all he
could hear was the pounding beat of his heart. And all he could see was hate.
All he could breathe was hate. The breaking blows on his back softened, and he could
hear the clattering heels of his father's boots outside. The boy's green eyes
were heavy now. His body was numb, his mind floating in a languid mist. He
heard screams behind the cold wooden doors, and his father's voice trembled
with rage- "…money?!…no,no...don't." He couldn't quite distinguish the words, but he didn't
care to know. Steel clattered against metal, wood, flesh... Screaming. They
were always screaming. And he envied the children who couldn't hear. /Stop...please stop./ His heart pounded with the broken screams of the
house, and he could barely hear the soft cry trailing his lips. /Pounding, pounding, pounding/ But underneath the broken beats of his heart, he could
faintly hear the soft melodies of a bird-a wordless song. And within the cold
room as he heard howls and bullets break the air, the soft melody caressed him,
embraced him. The blond child scurried to a random corner,
collapsing with drapes of darkness, strongly clutching those diminishing notes.
The notes grew softer and softer as his eyes fell to darkness. But they continued to echo. And for once, he was happy he could hear. -- 2. Tire wheels grit against rocky pavement, and
sentiments randomly swirled and swirled about in the air. The boy groggily
opened his eyes; a woman smiled tenderly towards him, gently sweeping her hands
to touch his face. The boy blinked curiously; there were many questions he had
left to ask, but his head throbbed, and it felt as if a thousand knifes pierced
his veins. He couldn't quite see, but the beaming image of a kind
face smiled before him. He had often imagined his mother gazing at him in such
a way, with such tenderness. He hoarsely whispered, "Mom? Am I in
heaven…?" His eyes grew foggy once more, and the soft notes of the bird
still echoed through his veins. /Sing...sing/ -- Deep green eyes opened to light once more, and a woman
kindly sat in a chair beside the boy. "W-where am I?" "In an orphanage-your new home." "Home?" "Yes…you can meet the others outside when you're
able to-" "W-what happened?" The woman simply smiled,
a grave sorrow washing beneath that upward curve. "Nothing." "Um…what's your name," the child asked,
confusion flickering in his eyes. "Edea, and you?" "Seifer." he replied curtly. The woman
slowly nodded her head, silently closing the door as she left. She glanced back
once, gently smiling towards the boy; she hoped he could absorb her grin it in
some way-embrace it. Seifer smiled sadly, sitting erect, glancing at the window
at his side. Dust played in light beams clouding warm rays. He sat there for
some time, simply staring at the particles, thinking. -- 3. Golden locks hugged a pretty face, blue eyes emitting
with a calm happiness. Quistis smiled warmly, leaning against a weeping willow,
letting her fingers tangle through blades of grass at her side. News was that a
boy was joining the quaint orphanage. She was lonely here; her companions were
nice of course, but they all hid so many emotions, masking them with an
artificial smile. Well, she didn't blame them, but it was becoming harder and
harder every moment to cope with solitude…She simply tried to wash away those
unshed tears, but strong currents of the past dragged upon her knees, whipping
her heart around carelessly in the sea of time. And every night she would
simply stare blankly at the bare ceiling, faintly absorbing artificial giggles
echoing from the bunks nearby. They echoed nervously from the lips, a
transparent blanket futilely attempting to mask sorrow. Quistis was beginning to do the same, but a constant
prickle ripped through those sheets. She didn't know what quite made her think
to find hope in this new boy. Maybe she was too lonely. Maybe desperation had
caused her to randomly clutch onto hope. A heavy sigh left her lips. She
absently plucked a single blade of grass at her side. She didn't notice the
drops of diamond dew dripping down its edge. -- 4. The blond boy finally willed his legs to the floor,
cautiously walking to the gardens outside. His emerald eyes reflected images of
children running past him; they were enjoying a game of baseball, paying no
heed to his presence. In a sense, he liked it better that way. At least he
wouldn't reek of blood, feel the horrid sensation of bursting veins oozing that
crimson liquid. /Blood, father…/ A black ball rolled down a nearby hill, gracefully
dancing towards his ankle. Seifer knelt down, allowing his arm to strike the
ball back over the hill; the ebony sphere sliced a straight path through the
air and disappeared. Seifer glanced over the hill for a while. He stared at his
hands once more, tracing the lines of his palm and the thick knuckles
surrounding his fingers. He never knew he could throw like that; he never knew
his arms could thrust with such power…His father never told him about this,
never cared about this- And a familiar shove pounded against Seifer's back. /NO…it can't be- he's *not* here, not here-/ Emerald eyes peered into brown pools. It was a boy.
His skin was a trifle pale, his brown hair tangled as a tuft of weeds, and his
eyes- his eyes were cold. "So you think you're so special, throwin' a ball
like that? Wanna show off or sumthin' punk?" Seifer breathed deeply. The boy's eyes, they were so
familiar; the very hue of them, the cold mist flickering within them were so
much like his... father's. Seifer remained still, quiet. "You think you're all that, but ya wanna know the
truth! You're useless! You can't do shit even if you wanted to," the boy
sneered. Seifer replied again with silence. /It's never enough dad./ "So you're not gonna speak, eh? Too weak, too
stupid to do shit," the boy smirked, letting a hand loaf easily in his
pocket. /I was always nothing to you./ The brown-eyed boy sneered again, allowing a blow to
whip Seifer's gut once more, his eyes slanting deviously with that same
contempt...that same condescension. "Why," Seifer whispered angrily, clutching
his hands into a fist. "What kind of stupid question is that! Who are
you to ask...,"the boy growled with a certain trace of sadness in his
voice. /Stop it father…stop it. STOP!/ The bully allowed his hand to thrust towards the blond
boy's abdomen. But he felt a tight grip press against the blow, and
he reeled backwards, falling onto the ground with a loud thump. The bully's
eyes glared widely, rage boiling in his veins. "No, I'm not the one who's weak," Seifer
hissed, shoving his hands into his pockets. A watery film slightly wet his
eyes- a tear of sympathy, but he didn't notice. -- 5. Sapphire eyes quietly viewed the brawl alongside the
sloping hills of the orphanage. Yes, that Gabe was troublesome, constantly beating
and taunting others. But the manner in which his brown locks drooped over his
face, the way his skin remained gaunt and pale-it almost seemed as if he were
ill, forever ill in the soul and body. Quistis felt sorry for him but even more
sorry for the new boy who had to face such turmoil in a new home. And it seemed that the blond boy felt infinitely sad,
possessing some sort of inexplicable anguish. Maybe she would talk to him. He needed a warm welcome
at the minimum of course. The golden haired girl glanced at her side, her blue
eyes catching sight of a single white rose tucked in a bush of thorns. She
plucked the blossom from its jagged home, a few trails of blood seeping
underneath her skin. The girl walked over towards the boy, gently tapping
his back. He sneered as he turned around, as if the slightest touch would taint
his very being. Quistis remained calm, carefully offering the single white rose
in her hands. Seifer glanced curiously at the blossom, noticing the crimson
marks on her hands. "It's stupid to pick a rose knowing that you'll
be pricked," he whispered a bit coldly. "Have you ever smelt a rose?" "What does it matter," Seifer replied a bit
annoyed, a trace of masked happiness seeping in his veins. "Well, they smell nice- at least the air smells
nice with them around," Quistis sighed. So much for a warm welcome. "And why give me one," he stated simply. "Well, you looked so sad…" Quistis allowed
the petals of the rose to touch her nose, the sweet scent drifting within her
body. Why didn't he wish to smell it? "I'm not sad," he snapped. He hated pity.
What good did it do to feel sorry for someone but never do anything about it,
never try to do anything. "I was just trying to be nice!" Quistis's
usual barrier of calm burst suddenly, an irritated chill echoing from her
voice. She threw the rose in his hands, simply forcing her legs to run in a
distance. It was always to same. Everyone there was always the same. Seifer smiled sorrowfully towards the retreating form
of the girl, curiously staring at the flower in his hands. He hesitantly
allowed it to touch his nose and breathed in the scent. There was something
sweet and warm in that scent…something beautiful. He tightly clutched the stem
of the rose. But he suddenly dropped the blossom. Streams of
crimson flowed down his hand and he muttered under his
breath,"Thorns…" -- 6. The night was quiet, and tiny white diamonds embedded
the sky. The moon was filled to the brim with a silver liquid, and blue eyes
viewed the spectacle in wonder. Deep emerald eyes peered at the small girl, and
hesitantly the boy forced his legs to walk over to her side. He rubbed the back
of his neck muttering, "The rose smelled nice." Quistis's eyes flickered with wonder, but she simply
nodded her head, gesturing for him to sit nearby. Seifer slid his hand through
his gold locks accepting the offer. She had been nice to him after all…or at
least tried. [Or is there something else?]his mind mocked. /It's nothing/ He growled back. "What are you doing here?" he finally asked. "Watching the moon." "Why?" "Just because." "Oh." Quistis glanced at Seifer's scarred hands, quietly
chuckling, "I thought you said not to touch roses if they had
thorns…" Seifer didn't reply. Quistis quietly touched his hands. His scars
suddenly stung. "NO!" Quistis shivered back, an expression
of fear and wonder mixed in her eyes. "I just don't like people touching me, all
right?" Seifer breathed firmly. "Of course not…,"Quistis replied coolly,
letting her hands droop into her lap. Seifer stared down at his hands for a
moment…they felt so warm, as if something indescribably soft had graced them.
But his eyes met red scars and the moment vanished. "By the way, I never asked you your name…." "Seifer," he replied curtly. "I'm Quistis," she quickly responded. A
burdening silence echoed in the night air, a never-ending solitude. The winds
whispered in gentle wisps allowing emptiness to flow about in endless swirls. "It's so lonely…,"the blue-eyed girl
commented, a cold mist dissipating in the air. Seifer glanced at her curiously,
and a sort of tacit agreement was reached. For several moments, the two peered
into each other's eyes, finding the same loneliness, the same emptiness. Pain
wrote itself in the very creases of the face, the very movement of the lips,
the very manner air exhaled from their lungs. No words were spoken, for they
weren't needed; there lay a deep rooted pain, an anguish beyond words, beyond
tears… Something inexplicable occurred, a connection between
two souls…and for the moment, they let it be like that-letting emotions flow
their own course. The two children gazed up at the moon, examining it's
fullness, its radiance, and for the time, everything seemed all right. -- 7. The morning breakfast was particularly savory that
day, pancakes shaped in perfection, thick syrup drenching the soft pastry in a
sugary treat. Seifer sat alone in a wooden table towards the back of the
cafeteria, slowly eating portions of the pancake. Quistis saw the blond boy in
the distance, gingerly placing her tray next to him. She quickly consumed the
food replying with a mouth full," Dhis ish goood!" Seifer's eyes darted to her food filled cheeks and her
slurred words, and a slight chuckle echoed from his lips. "Whatchs sho funnyy," she insisted, food
still stuffed within her tiny jaw. "Nothing,"Seifer replied coolly, continuing
to consume his pancakes. Quistis shot him a dubious glance, continuing to gulp
down the food. Well, Seifer laughed, or at least wore some expression of
humor…Maybe it would be all right after all. The night's events yesterday had
done something to both of them, and even though they couldn't quite explain it,
its meaning would forever leave some mark in the soul. Quistis wore a satisfied
grin, attending to her breakfast once more… Such breakfasts became a daily ritual for Seifer and
Quistis, and for once in their lives, they smiled. Of course it didn't occur
quite often, but when it did, there lay a sincere joy in the smile, magnifying
the value of the grin tenfold. Occasionally, they would watch the moon
together, and all the while they learned confidence- Seifer in particular. He'd never felt such a positive emotion towards
himself, and he wished to drench himself within it. Quistis had warned him to
stay gold at heart, but the feeling of pride felt so warm; he bid her to take
no concern, but Quistis wasn't one to settle her instincts so readily. One
morning she questioned the need of this overwhelming pride and he in turn
replied, "To replace something I never had." She wasn't sure of the
meaning of the reply, but instead she would simply tug her gold locks behind
her ears, peer into the anguish swimming in Seifer's eyes and lay the question
to rest. He was happy with that. At least he thought he was content. Something
within him ached to tell her, to pour some of the emotions burdening his
shoulders, but he couldn't bring himself to do such. Instead, he simply took
pride in his growing skill of weaponry and sports, perhaps trying to compromise
one for the other but failing miserably. -- 8. Seifer encountered the bully Gabe many times, a
growing rage pouring within his eyes, with every taunt slapped in his face. He
would often curse insolent remarks of the boy, but Edea would constantly scold
him that such words weren't for individuals his age. She would wear a sorrowful
expression possessing almost pity for the pale-faced Gabe. She wouldn't speak
of anything related to the boy to Seifer but simply instruct him to behave
better around his companions. Seifer would pay no heed to the warnings, simply
continuing to speak harshly of the brown haired boy. His father had taught him that. Once he muttered that he loathed the child, and at
this remark Edea wore a dangerous expression of pain and disappointment. Unable
to conjure another method to lay the problem to rest, she asked Seifer to
follow her to a secluded room. White walls shimmered with the blinding ceiling
lights, and by the window rest a small boy tucked in a soft bed. The boy's ruffled brown strands fell over a pale,
white face. /Gabe?/ "He has leukemia, Seifer."Edea slowly
stated. The blond boy's eyes widened in astonishment, his legs gently sweeping
him towards the room. He let his deep blue eyes rest on Gabe's face. He seemed
so vulnerable, and an evident stream of tears burned down the sides of the
boy's cheek. /He's afraid…/ Seifer stuttered backwards, trembling slightly at the
sight, quickly walking away from the bed. Edea let her eyes wander to the
ground, her lips curling to a distressed frown, "I'm sorry…" /You shouldn't have to grow up this fast…/ The gold
haired youth glanced towards the floor, slowly shutting the door as he left the
room. Seifer made periodical visits to the secluded
corridor, occassionally listening to the mumbles underneath Gabe's breath. The
blue-eyed Quistis would often accompany him, concerned with the restless
flickering of his eyes. Seifer in turn would simply stare at the emaciated body
of Gabe simply replying, "He's scared." That evening, as purple, pink, and orange hues kissed
the sky, the same words echoed from Seifer's lips. Quistis nodded her head,
again hesitantly allowing her small hands to touch Seifer's cold fingers. It
was the first time she had allowed herself to take such a risk after the
memorable night under a full moon. Strangely enough, Seifer let her warm hands
soak the coldness out of his veins. He grew frightened of the terrified gasps
released from Gabe's throat. The pale boy choked upon air as if it were
sandpaper slowly grinding the throat. He slowly opened his eyes to face Seifer
hoarsely whispering, "I knew you were here." "Then why?!-" "My strength is goin' away-I just hafta to say
sorry…" Seifer's eyes flickered wildly, "You were scared,
weren't you?…" "Yea…,"he paused for a second, "Seifer,
don't end up like me. Don't become someone you hate...live," Gabe grinned
sadly and closed his eyes to sleep. He never opened his eyes since, and a dry
film of water crusted Seifer's eyes. It was raining outside the next day. It seemed a bit
trite of nature to pour its sorrows on days where agony was greater than tears,
but nature worked as it did. Quistis walked outside, drops of clear diamonds
collecting on her eyelashes. Seifer followed her for the sake of doing just
that... She grinned slightly, swirling around in circles, celestial tears
gracing her face, her hair matted in the cleansing liquid. "You shouldn't dance now…"Seifer sternly
growled. "Then what are you supposed to do?" she
replied, her cherubic voice ringing the air. "How the hell am I supposed to know!" Seifer
sighed deeply. "Live." Quistis replied quietly. The flicker
in her eyes was hesitant, but finally Quistis resolved to hold his hand; her
head motioned to the steady raindrops pouring in the garden. The boy shook his
head in indecision, but a part of him wanted so badly to go with her in the
rain. It was the part of him that peered into her blue eyes, the part of him
that felt happy with her presence. He accepted the offer, slowly gliding
through the watered mud of the garden. And they walked. The soft pattering of
the rain felt refreshing against his cheeks, and as he glanced at his
companion, he whispered the single word, "Live" once more. The rain
continued to fall, and it felt as if a sea of warm emotions suddenly embraced
him. Once he believed there was a place, a limbo between what were dreams and
what was real…and there lay hope, a tangible hope. And at the moment he felt he
was there, in that realm just by standing there next to her. /Gabe would have feared this./ The rain poured more softly now, and it almost seemed
like it held its position in the sky. Seifer understood Gabe strangely, for he had felt the
same kind of fear in his life before, and in the ailing boy's last words, he
said to live. Seifer glanced at his hands-they were hard. Weren't a thirteen year
old's hands supposed to be soft, tender? The other hand that clasped Quistis
was remarkably warm though; her hands were strong and yet light-like a feather.
She was pressured with life's adversaries early in life as well, but she
retained what most children were supposed to hold: innocence. Maybe he could
absorb some of that just by merely clasping her hand and walking through the
rainy path. Rain continued to soak his golden locks, but he smiled anyway. And
just as Quistis tightly squeezed his hand, Time stopped. -- 9. And it began again. They say after a rainfall, a rainbow striped with
vivid colors graces the sky, and a soft blue hue kissed with sunshine swirls in
the heavens. But as the rain subsided, it seemed that the skies
turned grayer; the clouds rumbled steadily within the heavens. A storm was gathering. A gentle light flickered within a room, two cedar
chairs hugging the sides of a broken brown table. A white and black board lay
on the table, the figures of horses, kings, queens, and pawns gracing each
square: Chess. Quistis had claimed the ivory pieces, and Seifer settled with
the ebony. At first, the two carelessly moved their pieces, quickly allowing
their knights or pawns to thud casually on the chessboard. But as pieces were
sacrificed, their minds gradually fell onto those single figures as if the
world's fate fell within the shoulders of a single move. But Seifer still saw
it all as a game, carefully moving his ebony pieces in accordance to Quistis's
moves. But to that golden girl, it seemed as if her life was fated in those
very pieces. Beads of sweat matted her hair and forehead as she poured her mind
to the game. "Check," Seifer would hoarsely reply.
Quistis in turn would nod silently, placing her knight to defend the king. "Check," he would repeat again, and she
would sacrifice another piece in the name of the king. The game continued in that fashion, until the only two
ivory pieces gracing the board were the king and the queen. Quistis stared
blankly at the carved figure of the queen, tenderly touching it with her
fingers. "I can't." "Do what?" Seifer arched an eyebrow. "The queen-I can't get rid of her for the
king." "Well, you have to - that's the way the game
goes."Seifer replied, a bit curious at her sudden reaction. "No," Quistis whispered. A clear sheet of
salty liquid burned her eyes. She allowed her fingers to catch a single tear,
rubbing it in her fingers. Seifer stared at the salty drop. She was crying. And he couldn't bear it. It was all right for anyone
else, but *she* couldn't cry. It wasn't right for her to wear such a pained
expression, to carry such sorrow in her eyes. No, she was the one always softly
smiling, gracefully dancing in the rain… "What's wrong?" he gulped a bit unsteady. "Mummy did the same thing," she replied
softly. Seifer allowed his eyes to soften slightly to concern, his small cold
hands hesitantly touching hers, his eyes asking her to reveal her tale. "Dad- he wasn't a good man…but mummy still loved
him." /Why?/ She would often see her father leave the house at
night, wearing a bulky, black trench coat. She once stole a glance within the
heavy pockets of the jacket, finding white powder sealed in plastic bags. She
wasn't sure of what it was, but the next night her father would come home with
paper money in his hands. Her mother's eyes always carried some sort of sorrow,
and she would hesitantly touch her father's cheek with love. He would sneer in
response, pushing her away from his sight. Quistis remembered seeing her mother
cry silently in her room after such an incident, whispering something about
change and…drugs. The blue-eyed girl didn't know what was so wrong with drugs;
weren't they also called medicine? One winter night, when the air was
particularly cold, the sky particularly dry and somber, she caught glimpse of a
bulky man carrying a gun. She was staring at the spectacle from a foggy window,
and she wasn't quite sure of who it was. But a violent crash broke through the
wooden door, and silver tears pierced the air. The bullets rang through wood,
through flesh, and a pool of blood and debris mingled upon the floor. Quistis simply huddled in the corner of the room,
hiding beneath the bulky drapes of the window. Her breath pounded, and the
stuffy drapes pulled over her face as if suffocating her. She slowly allowed
her blue eyes to stray away from the curtains, focusing on two figures running
into the back of the room. A bulky man roared into the corridor, screaming her father's
name, allowing bullets to pierce his skin. Her father felt crimson liquid
dripping from his hands, but it wasn't his blood. It was her mother's crimson
liquid. She whispered a solemn "I love you" before basking into an
eternal sleep. Her father held a stern expression on his face, but Quistis
couldn't see the dry tears folding within his soul. Her father forced his legs
to take him away…and he kept on running, too afraid to look back, too afraid to
truly see her blood, too afraid to see his daughter's sad blue eyes….But
Quistis never knew. She only saw the bullet that had marred her mother's heart
and the hot tears burning her cheek. And she was crying now. "You can tell me if you want," Seifer spoke
slowly. "I-I want to forget,"she whispered. Seifer nodded solemnly in understanding, simply
speaking, "You can forget or forgive…live." A strange sadness
overwhelmed his brown eyes, but he tried to lay it to rest. "H-how would you know ?"she mumbled, tears
still trembling down her face. "B-because h-he," Seifer faltered. He let
his eyes rise, meeting her blue pools. /She's crying./ He couldn't see her cry, see those tears burning down
her face. And all the while, she thought she was alone. He had known
loneliness, he had felt the scarring words of his father, and he had felt the
sensation of his own blood streaming down his face. He had known nightmares,
but now…now, for once in his life, he felt as if he were living in a sort of
dream; it was one of those dreams where the sky was a bright blue, a place
where he could dance on soft white clouds, a place with her. She had to know
that she wasn't alone, that it wasn't their fault, that they would be okay… "He beat me, Quistis," tears threatened to
sting his eyes, but he allowed a cool sheet to mask them. Quistis gasped, her
trembling hands caressing his small, cold hands, her lips whispering,
"It's not your fault." Seifer blinked, "It's not your fault
either…"he hesitated for a second but spoke his heart anyway. "You won't be lonely, because-" Quistis wore a curious expression as he spoke,
"I'll be here…" Quistis slowly smiled, gently wiping the tears from
her face, softly speaking, "And I will too." They smiled at each
other for what was an eternity, and they knew an unbreakable bond had melded
two souls. For the moment… -- 10. A gathering was held in the cafeteria the next week.
It was morning, and a cool breeze kissed the sun's radiant light beams. Edea
Kramer stood on a wooden pedestal, clearing her throat as she spoke, "We
have a new companion here today. I will ask of you all to give a warm welcome
to Squall Leonhart…." A boy of the age of twelve quietly sat in a chair
next to the instructor. His ebony locks carelessly fell upon his face, and his
handsome eyes flickered with mystery and intrigue. Quistis stared at the boy in wonder, immediately
sensing a strange pull towards the youth. Maybe it was the way the light
bounced off his hair, or perhaps the solemn expression flickering within his
deep eyes which intrigued her so. She scolded herself for acting with such
superficiality, but she simply couldn't help it. Seifer saw the manner in which
Quistis stared at the new boy, an indescribable emotion of fire overwhelming
him. He glared at the brown-eyed boy with a strange sort of green sensation flickering
steadily in his eyes. Quistis took no notice to it but simply stared at Squall,
a bit of a dreamy expression rendering her face. Edea finally finished the weekly announcements,
gesturing for the children to attend the specified activity of the day: an
archery contest. The grass was soaked with rain, and a musty odor
filled the air. Seifer grit his teeth, pulling a bow from the equipment basket.
Squall did the same, tightly holding the arrow back on the string of the bow.
He squinted, his eyes focusing solely on the red central circle of the board
ahead of him. He laced his index finger above the nock, the middle and ring
finger under it, hooking the string with his first and second joint. His hands
were surprisingly calm as he allowed his arrow to fly. It sliced through the
heart of the wooden board. Quistis smiled, approaching the handsome Squall,
congratulating him on the well-aimed shot. He in turn smiled shyly, thanking
her for the compliment. Seifer let his fingers tangle through his golden locks,
growling, "I can do much better than that!" Squall quizzically arched
an eyebrow, a bit shocked from the rage burning in Seifer's eyes. Seifer
squeezed his eyes, focusing on the target with a flaming beat of the heart. He
placed his toes against an invisible straight line towards the center of the
target, his feet about shoulder's length apart. His eyes glared at the single
scarlet drop gracing the center of the board-almost like blood. And at the
moment, that was all he could see- that single scarlet drop. His surroundings
melted in a sheet of fog knit by his mind, and his sapphire eyes glared with a
steady rage. /Enough blood, Father./ And as he continued to gaze at the red circle, his
eyes grew calm, a solemn passion feeding his fingers. And his arrow split the
center, hacking Squall's previous shot in half. Quistis didn't reply, simply
staring at Squall's hair and admiring his handsome face. Her heart continued to
scold herself, but her eyes never faltered from his image. Strands of contempt
tied Seifer's veins, and the archery match continued, heat pounding within
Seifer's very being. It seemed that there lay hundreds of splinters of wood
kissing the center of the board. Squall and Seifer repeatedly let arrows slice
the air, each piercing the heart of the board. Night was swallowing the sun
now, and a million white specks dotted the sky. Edea Kramer insisted the game
to halt, but both viciously opposed such- Seifer in particular. Quistis pleaded
them both to come inside the orphanage, and with her gentle pleas they
acquiesced. Seifer mumbled a long string of curses as he went to
bed that night. He didn't dance on clouds in his slumber. -- 11. And he awoke, expecting the gentle blue eyes of
Quistis to welcome him … But- he only saw dust bounce with the light of the window. A short wisp of pain whipped within him as he
approached the glass window. He squeezed his hands into a ball, his eyes
intently watching the activities outside; it all looked like a picture, the
window serving as the frame, the laughing chants of the orphans the painting
itself. Two to be exact. A blue-eyed girl walked gracefully alongside a youth
of ebony-kissed hair; her eyes seemed so mesmerized by the very manner he
walked, the manner he grinned slightly towards her. Seifer growled angrily
underneath his breath. /Damn Squall.../ With rage in his eyes, he grabbed a soft pillow by his
side, punching it until his hands throbbed. He glanced towards the window once
more; yes, it all seemed like a picture, except he was simply viewing it,
wishing to be there all the while. In the rolling green hills of the orphanage, Quistis
stared towards the window; her blue eyes caught sight of the image of Seifer.
She sighed heavily. She had tried to wake him early that morning, but he simply
mumbled in his sleep, growling about how utterly wretched Squall was… Why did
he hate Squall so much? Seifer and she were friends, and why would he care so
much about her being friends with another boy? But Quistis didn't take to notice
the subtle whispers within her that so desperately hoped he did. She smiled
bitterly, focusing her attention on Squall once more. Squall simply shook his
head a bit carelessly as Quistis continued speaking. Seifer turned around, eyeing a dry rose partially
tucked beneath the mattress of his bed. He had saved that white rose the day
she gave it to him. She didn't know. The cream petals crusted in a brown hue,
withered in brittle shards. He stared it for sometime before simply laying on
his bed and glaring at the ceiling with his eyes wide open. -- l2. Seifer grew to lie on his bed more and more each day,
steadily embracing himself in cold sheets, as she grew more distant. He
supposed he preferred them; at least he could never lose cold sheets, and the numbing
effect was quite effective. But then again, every moment he saw Quistis
chatting with Squall, a strange sort of wound reopened, and the cold sheets
would slip away, leaving heated blood curdling in his veins. But he could
easily gulp that down. The invincible Seifer wasn't going care about some girl
and her feelings. No, he wouldn't care. But then why did he always carry that dry, white rose? He wish he knew. The sky was silver that particular day…No, it seemed
more gray. And it was raining. Hard. The heavens seemed angry that day, or
perhaps infinitely sad, or even a mixture of the two. A flame burned within
Seifer, and so he went out to the rain, perhaps to share the same fiery fury,
the same sadness. Heavy clear drops pounded against his face, forcefully
sliding down his cheek. He closed his eyes for a second, allowing the rain to
take its toll. A delicate hand gently touched his shoulder. /No…/ He slowly turned around and opened his eyes; sure
enough, he met tender sapphire irises. He sneered. "What do /you/ want?" "Why have you been avoiding me, Seifer?"
Seifer laughed bitterly in response. "Me, avoid you?" A certain pain flickered
within Quistis's eyes. Truth was a difficult thing to blanket. "Tell me, what am I to you," Seifer growled
under his breath. He could never depend on anyone in his life; they all just
ran away, forgetting that he ever existed, just another scent whipping the air
in a fleeting moment. He wished they cared. He wished that *she* cared, but he
couldn't tell her that. He couldn't wait for her. "Y-you're a friend Seifer, and you're really
important to me," Quistis dared not speak anymore, much too afraid to lose
any shred she had with him. /But he's already gone.../ "Friend…you say a friend?" he muttered
bitterly. "You're important to me." "You know damn well I'm not important to you. You
never did care- this whole thing was just some kind of act you pull with every
other guy, isn't it?" he replied darkly. A single tear rolled down Quistis's cheek. Or was it
the rain? Why couldn't he understand that he was special to her? Why...? Seifer angrily pulled out a dried, browned blossom and
threw it at the ground. He furiously crushed it, whooping wildly each time his
feet met the brittle rose. Quistis looked down solemnly until he was finished,
until he walked away from her. She gently picked up the crumbled blossom,
trying to lift it to her nose. There was no scent. Seifer turned away; his feet felt like air. He was running. Within the traces of warmth still faintly flickering
within him, he knew he was a coward for running. But for the moment that was
all he could do. He ran, hoping she wouldn't follow and yet breaking within
that she wasn't. The rain was hard down his face. And so he embraced
the heaven's hot, angry tears, still running. /Run…/ For a moment he thought he could almost hear the
bird's soft song. But it was only a lost echo. *** ============= III. ============= The bird's song was stronger. For now, five years later, she was here. Seifer stared at the soft, cream petal for several
moments; the wind continued to sweep softly on the gift. It seemed to sing a
sad and sweet ballad, and through the flicker in Quistis's eyes, it seemed that
she heard it too. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes
slightly filled with water. "You never did care for me, did you?"Seifer
spoke harshly. "No…I did, I was just so afraid-" "Afraid of what, Quistis! Afraid of
what?!"he yelled a bit frustrated. "That you'd leave too…and that I'd be
lonely." "You are now," Seifer darkly whispered. "I-I just hoped you would remember-" "Remember what?!"Seifer scowled furiously
rubbing his feet against the ground. Her blue eyes were so sad…He hated seeing
them like that, seeing such pain flow in those blue pools- an empty sea. But he
had promised himself that he wouldn't care… "The promise." /'I'll be here…'/ The bird sang insistently. "It's so lonely now," Quistis laughed a bit
sadly. Tears started to burn her eyes, and they gathered into a single drop of
anguish gracefully falling onto the white rose in her hands. Her body started
to tremble… She saw fog. And for a few moments, she saw Seifer. Seifer, the blond boy with those pained green eyes
staring at her with concern. Tears continued to melt her cheeks as she let her
arms swing around the blond boy, sobbing. She sobbed the dry tears racked within her; she sobbed
the loneliness away…sobbed it all away. And the cold man trembled underneath her touch, slowly
tracing her blonde locks, slowly touching the gentle skin he had missed five
aching years. He wished her tears away…He wished he could run away. But some unknown force held him still by her side. And there he was again, in a heavenly place where
dreams lay bare on the earth. But he still remembered to breathe, to live. And for
once he was happy he hadn't forgotten. Author's Notes: SAPPPP!!! Yeah, I know. I'm not a
master with words, but I hope this sparked some sort of emotion(besides
nausea). Well, if ya want more sap, check out my site: www.angelfire.com/ak4/wotff7/index.html
<http://www.angelfire.com/ak4/wotff7/index.html>. |
| |||||||||||||||||
