#onepartbrave

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬

@onepartbrave​​ | |  *Squall Leonhart

“ revenge won’t bring peace for you. ”

Despite it having been weeks since it all came to an end, he couldn’t properly shake the tenseness in his body, clinging to it as if expecting to be tossed into the maelstrom of war, death, her voice in his head and the many, countless, endless nights he had to go without sleep again at any given moment. He still couldn’t rest and had not slept through one night after he initially passed out from the wound inflicted during the fight inside the Lunatic Pandora. Nightmares haunted him, and working through what he experienced seemed hardly to be an option, not with everything slowly resurfacing. Part of him was thankful for Fu and Rai to take him in, nurse him back to relative health, and showing patience with his bouts of aggression, panic, and other signs of the scars he had brought back home. Another part privately hated them for the same, humiliated and ashamed, guilt weighing heavy on his mind and heart alongside it all. Being stuck in Balamb Town certainly didn’t help. Not with the way people looked at him, not with those who he once tried to kill being so close. Garden students, his former enemies, and townspeople that had seen him during the occupation of Balamb. It was hard to leave the hotel room his friends had rented for him most of the days. And of course, there was him. The ever-present figure during all of it, like a shadow, like a mocking mirror image of could-have-beens. Squall, who had become everything Seifer wanted to be. Squall, who had been handed all Seifer had dreamed about all his life. Commander, Knight, Hero. Someone people looked up to and relied upon, not out of fear but because they trusted and admired him. Never in his life would the blond have ever expected the other one to live up to such great titles and responsibilities. Naturally, as he was clad in such a role, Leonhart would eventually come to see him. It had taken weeks, if not more than a month (for telling time apart had become somewhat of a challenge, being without any task to follow and with his sleep meddled as it was), but Seifer was not surprised - after all, the last time they faced each other, they had been fighting for their very lives, and not just to test their strengths as it once were. Standing in front of the window leading out to a small balcony, the tall blond remained after he had opened the door to his hotel room, momentarily stunned by the sight of the brunet looking up at him with features unreadable as ever. Instincts told him not to turn his back on the other man, but he knew there was no backstabbing attack to be feared. It wasn’t Leonhart’s style to fight dirty, after all, and aside from all that, the war was over, done. Despite the window being opened, leaving white curtains to gently sway in the ocean breeze, the telling smell of alcohol hang in the air, clinging to the sheets and the tall blond’s clothes alike, same as the stench of cigarettes, the ashtray betraying just how much he smoked nowadays. Clad in black pants and a simple, red shirt, Seifer did not resemble anything of what he looked like during the months he had traveled the world in her name. He was paler, his hair a little longer and while still slicked back, single strands fell into his face ever so often, bright stubble on his cheeks and jaw, while the deep shadows under his eyes betrayed the lack of sleep. ”Revenge won’t bring peace for you.” Catching himself as he had not really listened to what Leonhart was saying, the last part had him stiffen all over again as his mind caught on to the words spoken in his direction, shoulders sliding up just so. He could not recall what the brunet had been on about before, but it didn’t really matter. Exhaling a sharp huff through his nose, scoffing in nature almost, Seifer glanced back over his shoulder, emerald eyes avoiding the corner of the room in which Fujin had hung up his trenchcoat, torn, dirty, and blood-stained. “You think I still want revenge, is that it?” There was a sharp edge to his voice, but it was a far cry from what he used to sound like back in the days of Garden, when he would taunt the other to get a reaction, any reaction out of him. “Why are you here, Leonhart? What do you want? …aside from preaching to me…”

He was still struggling to adjust to his new way of seeing the world but he’d finally felt as though he was ready to return.

His tribe was settled, its new leader decided and Maru’s obligations were fulfilled. It was time to return to Garden and reunite with the man he’d missed terribly since Squall’s return to Balamb Garden ahead of him.

The train from Galbadia back to Balamb felt like it took an eternity, one spent with sweaty palms and a heart that raced only faster as the train came to a stop in Balamb station. 

Would Squall be there to meet him? Would he get a chauffeur back to Garden in a frivolous display of abusing Garden’s funds, just so that he’d get back to Squall more quickly? Or would he have to make his own way?

While the ragged scarring over his right eye was yet hidden beneath clean, white bandages, the absence of sight on that side meant that driving himself was out of the question and his ability to fight was still dubious at best so if he walked, he’d have to remain on the road and hope no monsters decided to get too close. It was a problem to consider later though.

It was common knowledge between his team that Squall purposely went looking for trouble when it came to combatting the life-sucking leech a certain company was. The lesser known facts was, most of the time, he stumbled on it by accident while searching for another thing entirely. Very rarely did he find what he was looking for.  

Now… trouble finding him when he was actually enjoying some downtime from all the doom and gloom? Not cool.

Trepidation dashing to the forefront of his mind, Squall couldn’t say he recognized the guy. His own fault, memory issues were a bitch and he never tried fixing them. There was just… something about the man’s aura that left him deeply uneasy. Eyes narrowed with guarded suspicion fixated on his face (the brunet having to look up, not common amongst his peers) and he regretted leaving his humble abode unarmed this morning.

“…No more looking for trouble unless you’re seeking to start it,” he answered levelly, suppressing any emotion from his voice to better gauge his (plausible) opponent. “Do I look lost?”

He hoped the answer wasn’t yes. He was reluctantly aware his sense of direction was terrible so may filter into his daily activities.  

Sephiroth had a demeanor that was both intimidating and ethereal, standing at an imposing height about a head taller than most others with teal catlike eyes that could easily pierce through your very soul. He was a being both flawless and deadly.

He stared down the unfamiliar face, eyes slightly narrowed and a sly smirk twitching at the corner of his thin lips. “Start it? I’m the embodiment of trouble.” The silverette stated, not as a threat his tone almost playful in amusement that this young man does not know of him.

There was a lot to be said when it came to the rivalries of factions which ultimately honed the same basic interests. AVALANCHE was made of many to make one whole. A collective of like minded people with one common interest - for the good of the Planet. To rise up and wage war against the overlords of the ShinRa cooperation still maintaining a squeaky clean reputation in the eyes of the general public. 

That notion alone was enough to make Strife feel sick to his stomach. 

And yet somehow recent missions were delving wayward, spiralling out of all control when it came to the conflict of ideals of how a task should be executed. The problem sat with more than just a few members of the collective, and Cloud knew this, possibly better than most, but this did little to quell the contempt for one particular gunblade user he had secured in the very centre of his crosshairs. 

The night had ended badly, where a mission had run so smoothly on paper, and not so much in practice, leaving their own people injured and the general populace once again biting at their figurative heel to cease and desist. The old television set hanging above the bar had been silenced abruptly, accompanied by the customary childish tantruming of a few other members of this otherwise dysfunctional group. 

Usually, he’d just ignore this entirely loathsome situation, be done with it and return to his daily schedule. Usually, he didn’t care. But ever since he’d run into his former rival and conversation had ensued from there, things had been far from the usual. Or normal. Seifer hated it.

Not in the way one might think he would, however.

He hated the way his own behaviorisms had become foreign to himself; how his attention seemed to always and continuously wander and he’d find himself worrying. Something the Seifer Almasy of old would have scoffed at. But these days, he discovered sides in himself that he wouldn’t dare show anybody. Well, except for Leonhart, of course.

There was no helping that. Taking missions for the Kingsglaives and ending up being stuck in the same team had become daily business, and for whatever fucking reason the brunet had decided he had to show how tough and rash he was. As if he needed to prove anything to the tall blond. Six, Squall probably did just that. Thinking his strict following of orders back in the day had somehow led to what happened to him in turn.

It was all just a huge parade of guilt-tripping for the both of them.

Heaving a deep sigh, Seifer set his shoulders and pressed his lips thin. They needed to talk. After learning that the Academy very likely had gone corrupt, the both of them were the only ones knowing of the same, and at some point, they would have to talk to Cor. Or Drautos. Or both. Aside from that, there was the fact of Squall just taking off, wanting to keep him out of the dealings with the Academy to begin with.

Suppressing an annoyed scoff, emerald eyes closed briefly as he lifted his hand to knock on the door.

Honestly, he’d prefer to eat a raw Cactuar right now.

And then there was this thing between them. What even was that? Did he want to give it a name? Clearly, part of him wanted to know what Leonhart was thinking about it. If it was just some fooling around or if he was being serious. But then again - since when did he care?

There it was again. That care-thing.

Huffing, he waited for the door to open and, as soon as it did, he’d brush past the smaller man, not even giving him the chance to slam the door back in his face if he so wished.

“So you are alive.”

The amount of upcoming adrenaline that courses through his frame is nothing but a swelling molten pit that's crawling through his veins, reaching the point of that cocktail, lights it and ignites all drives go. The cloth practically ignites and the goddamn roof may as well be exploding with white as a guttural growl bellows in his throat and he breaths in slowly to try and calm the raging fire, instead giving it fuel.

Glistening golden eyes lock onto those goddamn heaven forbid marvelous grayish blue hues that might as well be the one thing he wants to see at all right now and for a moment the tingling rupture down his spine fuels into his arms and he's absolutely lifted the other, the now mostly clear desk a perfect spot as his nails gently drag over the other's arms, securing him in place even more as he slowly preforms a few almost butterfly like kisses to the other's flesh, tracing down his neck before sharp teeth sink in.

He knows just the right nerves to hit, the right ones that wouldn't cause pain but instead something much more worth the anticipation thats been bubbling beneath flesh and finally egniting in the room like a rocket going off. The wild inferno coursing through his mind as he breathlessly whispers into the other brunettes ear.

so squall is calling her a gremlin now?

Faintly glowing eyes scour the room,  for a moment wondering why everyone’s aligned as they are? Instead he finds his usual spot, moving forward he rolls his shoulders ever slightly. He doesn’t exactly understand the whole prospect of this room as he notes that many of the recruits currently being ordered around by his superior have directed their attention towards them, their heartbeats have slightly picked up? Has he done something wrong, either way he can’t currently stop. 

He quickly throws the newly improved blade, unlike the buster sword this one can split apart if needed. He had decided to test this out, unaware that new recruits were being taught in the same room today, well. Current objective could not be changed, he might as well continue.  His lean yet muscular frame lunges for the hilt, gripping and swings his entire body, able to hear how some heartbeats go silent, pausing for a moment as he quickly positions himself in a crouch on the side of the blade, focusing on the ladder that’s dangling. 

He throws himself up, catching it by one arm and swings himself up, barely making it due to the circumstances as he quickly pulls himself up, shaking blonde bangs out of his face, he’s momentarily aware of his name being called, hand brushing his hair out of his face in an attractive manner that he wasn’t aware of, sparkling mako eyes locking onto the mass of recruits as he peeks over the edge, crouching down for a moment, a few beads of sweat rolling down the side of his face. He squints for a moment, noting that many of the people’s faces seem rather flushed.