The Fic
SeeD Club

People are always asking me, did I know Seifer Almasy.

I am sat in a chair, in head master Cid's office with a gunblade to my throat, the blunt side, it's pressing right into my voice box. Stood over me holding the blade is Seifer, his blonde hair dishevelled and his blue eyes burning right into my face. He speaks, a little out of breath "We don't really die, we'll be immortal." I reply to the best of my ability " oor -- ee-ee --uh -- aa-." With a gun blade to your throat, you speak only in vowels. I move my head back, loosening the pressure enough to say, "You're thinking of vampires. " I try to grab the hilt of the blade but Seifer keeps control. He checks his watch "Three minutes to go." I look down out of the window; the building we're standing won't be here in three minutes. You take a 98-percent concentration of an ordinary potion and add three times as much of a remedy in a bathtub full of ice. Then, then add a phoenix down drop-by-drop. Very explosive. I know this because Seifer knows this. The Demolitions Committee of Project Peace Pact wrapped the foundation columns of this building with the explosive mix. The primary charge will blow the base charge, and this spot Seifer and I are standing on will be a point in the sky. Seifer rudely interrupts my thoughts "This is our world now. Two minutes." Two minutes to go and I'm wondering how I got here.

It started months earlier, I was hugging a mousse of a man called Rajin in the library my head is buried in his chest and he is openly crying, despite great efforts I am not, and my eyes are drawn to the sign saying "Male drama group- tonight." We are attempting to use emotional recall to express our emotions and channel them into acting; Rajin is sobbing his heart out as he remembers the most tragic episode of his life. "…And then little Fluffy ran out in front of the car and he was…" he begins to sob harder.

Wait, lets back up.

I spent every night alone in my dorm, hearing the couple next door shouting with fly's buzzing in my face. For six months I couldn't sleep, so I go to Dr Kadowaki who informs me in a bored voice that you can't die from insomnia. To this I reply "Maybe I already died. Look at my face." It is all red and puffy. In the same bored tone the Doctor responds "You need to lighten up."
"Can you give me something?" I hopefully chip in
"You need healthy, natural sleep. Chew valerian root and get more exercise." Doctor K ushers me to the door. In a last ditch attempt I cry, "I'm in pain."
"You want to see pain? Swing by the Quad on a Tuesday night and watch the male drama group" So I went to the drama group.

The first time we paired off, the big moosie, his eyes already shrink-wrapped in tears. Knees together, invisible steps. He pancaked down on top of me and said "a family of 35 ... and they won't return my calls." Strangers with this kind of honesty make me go a big rubbery one. My face is rapt and sincere. Rajin stopped talking and broke out into sobs, putting his head down on my shoulder and completely covered my face. Then, I was lost in oblivion -- dark and silent and complete. My body began to jerk in sobs. I tightened my arms around Rajin. This was freedom. Losing all hope was freedom. Babies don't sleep this well.

I felt more alive then ever before, I visited all the clubs, mixed drama, cards, books, videos, chess and others. I wasn't really interested, but the camaraderie you get from people who think that you are as obsessed with a thing that you are is unbeatable. Rajin loved me because he thought I needed emotional release through acting.

Then, enter Instructor Trepe.

She has long golden hair and big, blue eyes framed with glasses. And she ruined everything. Liar. Faker. Liar. This ... chick ... Quistis Trepe... did not have an interest in chess. She had no obsessions. She was a liar. I saw her at Only Books, my book club, looking as blank as I did, at "Seize the Day," my drama group Friday night. Quistis-- the big tourist. The faker. With her there, I was a faker, too. Her lie reflected my lie. And all of a sudden, I felt nothing.

Fully clothed, I lie on top of my bed, holding a phone to my ear. I stare at the ceiling and swat at a fly. So, once again, I couldn't sleep. The phone beeps, I sit up. "I've been holding for thirty minutes." Spread all over the floor by my feet are invoices for Credit Cards. "Yes, that's right. Yes, but I transferred part of my balance to my Visa to get the lower rate. Oh, wait. No, it wasn't your Visa. Okay, I transferred all of the MasterCard ... to ... Look, can I just come down in person? I live here -- in Garden. No, none of my credit cards have main headquarters here. No? Why not? Why can't I speak to an account rep? No, wait, don't put me on --"

I'm put on hold.

I had become a slave to the SeeD survival instinct. If I saw something like the clever new double explosion hand grenade or latest Odine brand medicine I had to have it, just in case. It used to be Playboys; now -- its weapons monthly.

With insomnia, nothing is real. Everything is far away. Everything is a copy of a copy of a copy. Other people make copies, all with weapons, training. I wait in the mission briefing room; Floor-to-ceiling glass instead of walls. Industrial low-pile grey carpet. Walls of upholstered plywood. Then Xu arrives "I'm going to need you out-of-town a little more this week. We've got some "red-flags" to cover." It must've been Tuesday. Xu was wearing the cornflower-blue hairbands. "You want me to de-prioritise my current missions until you advise of the situation?"
"You need to make this your primary mission. Here are your train coupons. Call me from the road if there's any snags. Your itinerary ... " I hide a yawn and pretends to listen. When you have insomnia, you're never really awake and you're never really asleep, either.

Tuesday, mixed Drama group. We are pairing of to do some spontaneous improvisation work; I grab Quistis and drag her off to the periphery. "We need to talk."
"Kay. Sure." She looks intensely disinterested.
"You're a faker. You aren't interested. You just need somewhere to go.
"You're not interested, either." She said in a monotone voice
"These are my groups. I found them!"
"I saw you practising this."
"What?" Am I really that obvious that a second rate instructor can pick it up."
"Telling me off. Is it going as well as you thought it would?"
"I'll expose you!" I'm now clutching at straws…
"Go ahead"
"I've put in some serious time on these groups -- I've been coming for a year."
"Must've been tough to pull off."
"Anyone who might've noticed me in that time has either graduated or got bored and never come back."
"Why do you do it?" I don't want to share THAT with her.
"Why do you?" She shrugs
"Bored, an instructor who is to young to go out with the other instructors, but can't go out with the students, need to do something with my time." I relent; she seems as lonely as me.
"I got insomnia, I had far to much time to fill, it becomes an addiction."
"Yeah..." I almost smiles, then I catch myself and pull back from her.
"Look, I can't go to a group with a faker present." Quistis looks sullen
"Well, I can't either."

"We'll split up the week, you can have botany, cards and --"
"No, you take cards. Me being the CC king doesn't go over well."
"I think male drama group should be no contest."
"I'll take chemistry."
"You can't have both sciences. You take botany and --"
"I want chemistry."
"Okay. I'll take botany and I'll take the book club, you can have the video club and we'll split chess, you can have the first and third Sunday's"
"Fine, I guess this is goodbye."
"Uh, Quistis. Should we exchange phone numbers?"
"Should we?"
"In case we want to switch nights."
"Sure." I take out pad and a pen and write my dorm number on it and hand it to her. She takes my pen, grabs my hand and writes her number on my palm.

I am on the train again, sometimes I think I spend more time on the train than I do actually carrying out missions, why can’t something major happen at Balamb? I jump as a voice behind me says, “There are three ways to make an explosive mixture. One, mix equal parts of potion and frozen remedy.” I turn to see Seifer for the first time, who is staring out the window. Without turning to me, he continues: “Two, mix equal parts of potion and diet cola. Three, dissolve crumbled cat litter in potion until the mixture is thick”. Seifer turns to me and grins. This is how I met Seifer. He continues “You know why they have oxygen masks on trains?”
“Supply oxygen?” I wasn’t in the mood for talking, I never am
“That's a sharp answer. The oxygen gets you high. You're taking in giant, panicked breaths and, suddenly, you become euphoric and docile, and you accept your fate.” Seifer grabs a monster attack safety instruction card from the seat pocket and shows me the passive faces on the drawn figures. Seifer imitates the face, I laugh and I am completely beguiled. I ask him “What do you do, Seifer?”
“What do you want me to do?” Seifer replies sharply
“I mean -- for a living.”
“I’m a SeeD, I’m guessing you are too.” I get suspicious
“If you’re a SeeD, why haven’t I seen you around the garden?”
“I just got transferred from Galbadia about a week ago.”
“I guess I’ll see you in the cafeteria then.”
“I doubt it. I don’t live in garden, I have a place of my own.” Seifer reaches into the pocket of his long white trench coat and pulls out a piece of paper and writes a number. He hands it to me then stands up and walks away and swipes his card through the door to gain access to the SeeD car, his rank must be high, they don’t allow the lower rank SeeD’s in there anymore.

Home is a single dorm room at Balamb garden, for the lower ranking SeeD’s, it has the necessities, a bed and a desk. Showers are communal; you don’t get them en-suite until SeeD level 12, two more ranks to go… As I turn toward my dorm I see a smoky hole where my dorm used to be, I start to run down, but I am stopped by a Garden Faculty member, he looks irritated “You can’t go in there until the garden forensics team are finished, you know the gardens policy on internal explosions.” I look past him into my dorm room, it’s charred, “Where am I supposed to go?” The Faculty looks unsympathetic “I don’t care, you made an enemy and got it blown up, so its your problem, all the other dorm rooms are full.” I walk away stunned, I don’t have any enemies that aren’t the gardens enemies. I find the payphone, then I realise, I’m an orphan with no friends, who am I supposed to ring? I reach into my wallet to get Quistis’ number and another number falls out, I pick it up and dial, it rings, Seifer Almasy, rescue me. Deliver me from the garden dorms. Deliver me from sterile SeeD life. May I never be controlled. May I never be completely emotionless. May I never be the perfect SeeD. Deliver me. I sigh and hang up the phone. I start to walk away when the phone Rings. I grab it. “Hello?” and then a voice says
“Who's this?”
“Seifer?”

Seifer and me sit at a table in the very back of the one room of Balamb pub. A half-empty pitcher of beer shows dried foam scum from the previous refill. Five drunken SeeD’s at a table at the opposite side of the bar keep glancing over and chuckling in a potentially hostile manner. “You buy a gun blade case. You tell yourself, this is the last case you'll ever need in your life; no matter what else goes wrong, you've got the case issue handled. Then the books. Then the right desk. The knife. The rug. This is how you're good to yourself. This is how you fill up your life.”
“I ... guess so.”
“And now your dorm room blows up and you have nothing.”
“I ... guess so.”
“And now you find yourself, sitting here, feeling like it's the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“ ... yeah.”
“I don't know you, so maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's a terrible fucking tragedy.”
“... no.
“I mean, you lost a lot of nice, perfect, neat little shit.”
“Fuck it all.”
“Wow. That's pretty strong, Squall...”
“Yeah.”
“Do you have family you can call?” I shake my head at him
“I’m an orphan.” Seifer drains the rest of his glass.
“Why don't you cut the shit and ask me if you can stay at my place?”
“Well ... uh ...” He had a point, I was avoiding asking him. “Would that be a problem?”
“Is it a problem for you to ask me?”
“Can I stay at your place?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.”
“If you do me one favour.”
“What's that?” Images of cleaning or cooking cross my mind.
“I want you to hit me as hard as you can.” We walk out of the bar; I shake my head.
“What?”
“Hit me as hard as you can.”

Seifer leads me into an open area, lit by a streetlamp. “I don't know about this, Seifer”.
“I don't know either. I want to find out. We're virgins. Neither one of us has ever been hit.”
“That’s not true, we’re SeeDs, we fight every day of our lives. What are you talking about.”
“I don’t mean at the end of a gunblade, or being hit by Galbadian gunfire, I mean one on one fighting, no weapons. Listen to me -- hit me. You're the only one I ever asked.”
“Me?” I stare at him, what the hell is he thinking? Five drunken SeeD’s -- the same ones who stared at us earlier -- have formed a distant perimeter, sensing a fight. I glance at them, then back at Seifer. “I've ... never hit anyone in my life.”
“That’s where SeeD training lacks, no hand-to-hand .Go crazy. Let it rip.”
“Where do you want it? In the face or the stomach?”
“Surprise me.” I decide to just go for it and I swing a wide, clumsy roundhouse that connects with Seifer's ear. It makes a dull, soft flat sound. Seifer's ear turns red. “Shit. Sorry. That didn't count. Let me try again.” Seifer is bent double clutching his ear.
“My ear, you hit me in the ear? That counted.” Seifer shoots out a straight punch to my chest. The impact makes a dull, barely-audible sound and I fall back against a car. My stomach feels like its on fire. The SeeD’s whoop and clap, moving closer.

Me and Seifer breathe heavily and sprout beads of sweat on our faces. Seifer turns his head to look at me, his blond hair dishevelled
“How do you feel?”
“Strange.”
“But a good strange.”
“... I guess so.”
“You want to call it off?”
“Call what off?”
“The fight. I’m tired of waiting for missions in a world where nothing ever happens, I’m tired of fighting low level monsters. I don't want to die without any scars. How much can you really know about yourself if you never go at it, one-on-one?” I swing another roundhouse that slams right under Seifer's ear. The sound, soft and flat. Seifer punches me in the stomach. The SeeD’s move closer, cheering the fight. We move clumsily, throwing punches. We breathe heavier, our eyes red and bright. We drool saliva and blood. We each hurt other badly and become dizzier from every impact.

We sit on the curb, staring at the sparse headlights. Our eyes are glazed with endorphin-induced serenity. We look at each other. Laugh. Look away. Then Seifer says, “What were you fighting?”
“My job. My boss, who sends me on pointless missions. Quistis, at my student groups. Everything that's broken and doesn't work in my life.
“What were you fighting?”
“My parents.” There is a pause as I study Seifer's somewhat bruised and swollen face.
“We should do this again sometime.” Seifer cracks a smile, gives a sidelong glance to me, and then returns his stare to the night sky.