Amor Vincit Omnia - Illyna

Watching
By
Illyna

I got the inspiration for this story form the Saifuu board. There was a discussion "Fujin doesn't dance". Therefore it only seems fair that this story is dedicated to the people on the board.

Here you go guys! Hope Fujin 'ain't too OOC. And you were right. She doesn't dance!

Lyrics are from a song called "Gasoline" by Marcella Detroit. Taken from the album "Feeler". Check it out.

-----

The night air is cool on my skin. I welcome the slight breeze, taking the opportunity to calm my tense body a little. I realise I am trembling; the fingers gripping the balcony rail tight, knuckles clearly showing through pale, pale skin.

Calm. I must achieve calm to be able to attempt this. Nerves would only hinder me in this situation. Impede me in my mission, of what I want, what I need to say.

Around me couples disappear into darkness, fading away into oblivion. Out of sight, out of mind.

The balcony has emptied. I am alone. It's just me and the wind. And the wind is a trusted ally. I whisper all my secrets to it, without fear of mocking or discovery.

I whisper yet another:

"Would you dance with me…?"

The voice is mine, and the query had come out just as I had wanted. Speech baffles me, sticking in my throat, in my mouth, requiring extreme concentration to shout out even the briefest syllable. Words on the other hand…

Words I can be eloquent with. Impedimented I may be, but give me a pen, and the writing flows. With writing I can go anywhere, build bridges. Build other worlds. I may not speak, but that does not make me mute.

It is just the vocal transfer I have the problem with. The phrase "tip of the tongue" has never been more appropriate for anyone.

But this short phrase I have practised, alone, in the silence of my room, for weeks now. An actress preparing her script, reciting, remembering, until the words have become second nature to me.

And tonight was my grand performance. Fujin, take stage centre. My part of a lifetime was almost upon me.

I was going to ask Seifer Almasy to dance.

* * * *

Of course, my self-image, and that of dancing don't exactly go hand in hand. I am perfectly aware of how other people view me. They see a projection, a stereotype. A cipher. The one-eyed, arrogant, silent, silver haired, violent member of the Disciplinary Committee. They mistake my silence for standoffishness. They don't realise that there is more to me then meets the eye.

I am. I feel. They don't realise that if they tried to get around this wall, that they would see more than just the other side of it.

But I am content. If my defences aren't breached, I can live within my own boundaries. Not afraid of ridicule.

But, in spite of all this, tonight I will dance. I am going to let down my defences and see if I can let Seifer in. I want him to come in.

There is one particular song that I am waiting for. The only song, in fact, that I know the steps to. In the past, I must have been taught them, somewhere, by somebody. But, for the life of me I can't remember whom.

So, here I stand, on a cold balcony. Waiting for it to appear.

* * * *

*We are dancing. Swirling around the dance floor with the greatest of ease. His arm, strong, wrapped securely around my waist, my head resting on his chest. I can hear his heart beating.

He tells me I look beautiful tonight, and that he doesn't want the dance to end.

I don't want it to either. I snuggle further into his embrace, feeling, for the first time in my life, safe.

All around up people gape and point and stare. But I don't care. I smile brightly at them as I spin past. Let them look. I don't care any longer. I am wanted.*

* * * *

The band begins once again, and the thrum of the baseline through the floorboards jolts me from my daydream. I glance around, looking at all the couples thronging on the dancefloor. Subtle vibrations run over my body.

It's my song!

A feel a surge of adrenaline courses through my veins, both hot and cold at the same time. I feel more riled up now, than I ever have before any battle. I guess fighting against your own body is so much harder.

I quickly, self-consciously, check my clothing. Nothing fancy, for I am Fujin, and dresses don't become me. But my top is pretty, and I've removed the steel toe capped boots for the night. One wrong step and I could have broken his toe.

I run my fingers over my hair, smoothing the silver fringe over my eyepatch, trying to camouflage it.

Deep breaths. Where is he? The room is crowded with Garden students, decked out in glitter and glitz. SeeD uniforms and pretty dresses blend and whirl past me. I catch a brief glimpse of white out of the corner of my eye, and turn to see its origin. Desperately, I search. My chance can't pass me by.

There! In the corner. He stands, dressed in trademark white, staring petulantly at something at something on the other side of the room.

God, he is beautiful. I savour the sight, as I manoeuvre myself closer to him. Almost there…

He still hasn't noticed me. Standing not three feet behind him, I enjoy the nearness. Time to act.

'Come on Fujin,' I chide myself inwardly. 'Time for your lines…'

I draw in another deep breath, wet my lips, and put myself on the line.

"Seifer?"

It flows out of my body softly, sibilantly. I never did have nay trouble saying his name, the sound itself like a balm to my rough voice.
I look toward him, expectantly. The eyes do not flicker from their far off gaze, fixed on a target. Brow furrowed a little, as if in thought.

Then, he begins to move across the floor, as if he hasn't heard me. My fingertips reach out to brush his arm, but already he is out of reach. I move after him. Determined.

"Seifer, would you…?" I begin once again. I am elated at my speaking successes so far, proud beyond belief.

Seifer still hasn't acknowledged my presence. I am too quiet. He mutters something that I do not catch, almost under his breath, and continues his assault on the floor.

I try one more time. I catch up with him, and hook my fingers around his arm, the crook of his elbow. He whirls to face me.

"Seifer," I say, looking up into those sea green eyes. It all comes out in a rush, words tumbling over themselves to be said:

"Would you dance with me?"

I grin at him, deliriously happy with my achievement. I did it!

Suddenly, his arm is jerked out of my grasp, roughly.

"I said go away Fujin." He snaps. "Why do I always have to baby-sit my damn posse?"

I recoil, as if slapped.

"B…but?" I manage to stammer out. Already he has moved away, staring once again at something at the other edge of the dancefloor.

Or someone.

Rinoa Heartilly.

My heart sinks to my boots, and I feel wretched inside. Rinoa. Pretty, clever Rinoa from last summer. Seifer was besotted with her then.

Just as he seemed to be now. How could I compete?

No wonder he didn't want to dance with me. Be with me. It suddenly dawns on me that I am still standing in the middle of the crowded dancefloor.

Face flushing, insides turning over, I stumble back, more than half blind through the veil of tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. But I won't let them. Fujin doesn't cry. My feet are unsteady, and I am shaking once again.

I finally make it through the hoards of bodies, reaching the relative safety of the side of the great hall.

I turn to get a glimpse of him, dancing with her. I don't want to see it. I don't need the torture. But I need to know for sure, so I can prepare myself.

So I can deal with it.

But he isn't dancing with Rinoa. Squall is.

Squall Leonheart, Seifer's sworn nemesis, was dancing with Rinoa. Seifer's face is like thunderclouds.

* * * *

I have retreated into a dark corner of the hall, melting into the shadows. I want to leave, yet like a small child with a scab I want to see the damage.

I hurt inside. I ache for him. Seifer is upset. I want to soothe him; I want to make it better. I wouldn't hurt him like she has.

I hurt for me, for the rejection. Stupid fantasies, daydreams. Romance novels are making me soft. I will destroy them all! Yet I know, in my heart I will not.

Fujin, exit, stage left.

I stand here in the darkness. Watching.

Watching him, watching her dance with him. With my heart slowly breaking.

* * * *

Why do I feel rejected?
It's just what I expected,
It's all gone somewhat septic.
That's right,
It hurts
And it gets worse
And worse.

The End.