FF8 - SxS - G rating. "In A Place I've Been."
Inspired by: When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.
It's from Squall's pov, just a bit of a drabble. I was listening to "What's left of me" and read the quote and it just kinda hit. Enjoy.
In A Place I've Been.
The road he’d traveled was long and it was hard. He no longer felt like he was in the bloom of his youth, he felt as if he lived in its shadow. Aged, and unlike a fine wine, it felt as if he carried the weight of everyone’s years along his shoulders, used up and discarded, the date on his label long past gone.
It was dark now where he was, dark with the sun shining fully down upon his pale skin. He lifted a hand to his brow, looking up at the sky and the lone bird flying overhead. He wondered where the animal was going, wondered about it’s life and how simple it must be.
He wondered and he wished for it for himself, wished that at the time he’d needed it, that someone would have given him simplicity.
The darkness soothed him, kept him walking, and kept him awake, when all he longingly wanted was to sleep eternally.
He watched others walk around him, scurrying for jobs, living in the moment, while he could only attempt to grasp at the make-believe. It was all he could give, pretending to be alive, to feel the wind against his skin, to feel the sun warming him, keeping the cold at bay.
He walked in a fog, incomplete, the world passing by in a blur, his steps felt lead-filled and slow, a movie on slow-motion permanently. Time meant nothing to him; it had barely before, and after, well, after it had none.
He stood at the railing, looking at the ocean longingly, as if waiting for something, anything, maybe a life to come to him. Night fallen, he looked outward to see everything within. In stillness he heard the footfalls that matched his own, a slowness, heaviness within each thump of sole across concrete.
He turned; silver-grey moon reflected eyes greedily drowned the kindred stepping to him.
Stars twinkled, mocking and encouraging, and a large calloused hand was held before him. He waited for a moment before slipping his own hand within, fingers tightening around each other, not a word spoken, both men turned to admire the stars lighting the way home.
It's from Squall's pov, just a bit of a drabble. I was listening to "What's left of me" and read the quote and it just kinda hit. Enjoy.
In A Place I've Been.
The road he’d traveled was long and it was hard. He no longer felt like he was in the bloom of his youth, he felt as if he lived in its shadow. Aged, and unlike a fine wine, it felt as if he carried the weight of everyone’s years along his shoulders, used up and discarded, the date on his label long past gone.
It was dark now where he was, dark with the sun shining fully down upon his pale skin. He lifted a hand to his brow, looking up at the sky and the lone bird flying overhead. He wondered where the animal was going, wondered about it’s life and how simple it must be.
He wondered and he wished for it for himself, wished that at the time he’d needed it, that someone would have given him simplicity.
The darkness soothed him, kept him walking, and kept him awake, when all he longingly wanted was to sleep eternally.
He watched others walk around him, scurrying for jobs, living in the moment, while he could only attempt to grasp at the make-believe. It was all he could give, pretending to be alive, to feel the wind against his skin, to feel the sun warming him, keeping the cold at bay.
He walked in a fog, incomplete, the world passing by in a blur, his steps felt lead-filled and slow, a movie on slow-motion permanently. Time meant nothing to him; it had barely before, and after, well, after it had none.
He stood at the railing, looking at the ocean longingly, as if waiting for something, anything, maybe a life to come to him. Night fallen, he looked outward to see everything within. In stillness he heard the footfalls that matched his own, a slowness, heaviness within each thump of sole across concrete.
He turned; silver-grey moon reflected eyes greedily drowned the kindred stepping to him.
Stars twinkled, mocking and encouraging, and a large calloused hand was held before him. He waited for a moment before slipping his own hand within, fingers tightening around each other, not a word spoken, both men turned to admire the stars lighting the way home.