Chapter Text
Quistis Trepe could be described in a number of words. Poised and quiet, only speaking with purpose. Beautiful with a few admirers taken in by her golden hair and sapphire eyes. Garden’s prodigy, having passed the requirements for SeeD at age fifteen although Garden regulation prevented her from joining the elite mercenary force until she was twenty. Meanwhile most students struggled through their early twenties to pass the exam. Hardworking and ambitious, dignified and mature.
Not that Quistis paid attention to any of this. Actually she had very little idea what others thought of her. She’d always felt slightly out of sync with her peers, like she was born with a sense of responsibility and middle-aged tendencies that she couldn’t get rid of.
No one who knew proper and unshakeable Quistis Trepe would’ve ever guessed that she was a wistful hopeless romantic at heart. Nothing pleased her more than a saucy romance trilogy that she could soak up in her dorm over a weekend, gasping at the predictable turns and twists and swooning over muscular heroes and their grand gestures.
Her guilty pleasure.
In fact, her mind was straying to the last few chapters of her current novel even as she stood in front of the class.
“And that is why junctioning elemental magic to status ailment attack and defence is useless,” Quistis explained in her clear, matter-of-fact tone. “You need to junction status magic such as Confuse or Sleep - magic that alters your ability to perform at peak attention and strength.”
Most faces stared blankly back though there was one here and there that looked like they might have comprehended her. She suppressed a sigh. Was it really so hard to understand?
They probably did understand, just couldn’t be bothered listening anymore. She supposed most of them were only thirteen or fourteen years old.
“Anyway, I think that’s enough for today," she glanced at the clock. “You’re all free to go.”
Quistis gathered her things as the students rushed out of the small classroom, some of them saying thank you to her on their way out. She smiled at them. It had only been a few months since she’d started her after-hours voluntary tutoring club but she had discovered that she really enjoyed teaching. The class were mostly made up of junior classmen who’d been strongly recommended by their own instructors to attend, but every now and then her own peers would turn up. She tried her best not to be condescending, but she supposed it was still strange to be teaching classmates her own age. They never stuck around for long.
Headmaster Cid loved her tutoring class. He loved everything about her in general, being a model student and the rare kind of teenager who actually gave back to the academy.
Quistis smoothed down her navy uniform skirt and adjusted the yellow ribbon at her collar. Her book was in her bag. If she started reading some now she’d be able to finish it and go to the library to borrow the second part in time for the weekend…
The thought cheered her enormously.
The second floor was mostly empty by the time she left the classroom and headed to the elevator. She could hear laughter and chatter, more relaxed than usual since it was Friday afternoon, coming from the first floor, mingled with the soothing sounds of water rippling in the pools.
Quistis loved Balamb Garden. It was always so peaceful and calm and so architecturally pleasant. Dimly she registered the ‘ding’ of the elevator as it reached the first floor and she walked out, descending down the stairs towards the directory.
“ Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No … don’t blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away. Doesn’t sound very exciting, does it? But it is!”
“Watch it.”
Quistis came back to reality with an abrupt crash. Literally. She’d had her nose in her book and didn’t realise she’d knocked into someone until she had bounced off them, her novel flying out of her hand. Looking up in surprise she saw -
Squall Leonhart.
The heat rushed to her face as she spluttered, “Oh! Sorry Squall - “
“Oh, it’s you.” Recognition spread across his features as he bent down to pick up her fallen book. He shot her an incredulous look, “Maybe if you stopped reading you wouldn’t run into things.”
Quistis fought to control her blush, much more so as her mind was still prying itself from the sweeping emotions of her romance novel to the current situation at hand, talking to Squall. They weren’t exactly friends - Squall didn’t care for friends - but they’d been paired together in defence and strategy class last year and had turned in the best submission for their project.
Of course, that wasn’t surprising. Quistis was top of her year and Squall was quietly brilliant himself. Now whenever they crossed paths they’d acknowledge each other - acquaintances of sorts.
Since their partnership though, Quistis had developed quite a crush. Squall had always seemed so taciturn, so aloof, but working together had made her realise he wasn’t so unfriendly, just preferred to be alone. He had an air of strength and grit about him that she found compelling; she also found him extremely handsome with his silky brown hair and storm-blue eyes.
“What is this book, anyway?” Squall eyed the novel as if it was a slug as she took it back.
“Oh, um… it’s nothing,” she said bashfully, quickly tucking it under her arm. She hurried to hold the conversation, “So um - did you - did you have a good week?” She cringed inwardly. I may have well as talked about the weather.
Squall shrugged, indifferent, “Same as always.”
There was silence as Quistis shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying to think of something else to say. To her surprise, he asked her back, “Did you?” Squall never asked questions.
“Oh - yes, I did. I just finished my tutoring class actually. Nice way to end the week.”
“I heard about that. That’s nice of you.”
Quistis glowed at his comment and tried not to let it show too much on her face as she replied, “I enjoy teaching and helping others understand.”
Squall raised an eyebrow, “I don’t know why you bother. I hate it when people don’t understand something.”
She chuckled; it was a typical Squall thing to say. “Maybe you should consider following my footsteps and starting a class yourself,” she teased, buoyed by their flowing conversation. It usually stopped at a nod and a hi. “You have a lot to offer. A lot of the juniors would love to see your gunblade skills in action.”
He looked faintly sickened by this idea, “Whatever. I’m not like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You passed the SeeD requirements at only fifteen. I still haven’t figured that out.”
“You’ve just got to work on your people skills a bit.”
He grimaced, turning his head away, “Everyone’s gotta get by on their own. I don’t see why that’s different out on the field.”
“Because you’re not on your own,” Quistis said patiently, “You’re part of a whole plan with lots of moving parts: your team mates. You have to know how to communicate and read each other.”
“You sound like an instructor,” he said flatly.
“Is that a bad thing?”
Squall just shrugged, an action that she’d anticipated. Quistis’ mouth twitched; she was amused by how well she knew him. She opened her mouth, her heart racing, suddenly feeling daring.
“Hey, do you want to - “
“Anyway, I gotta go,” he said at the same time, “Enjoy your book. See you.”
“Oh, okay. Bye,” Quistis said, hiding her disappointment as he turned around and walked off. She was an expert at concealing her true feelings. Sometimes she did it so well she even fooled herself.
Still… that hadn’t been a bad conversation at all. Squall had stuck around longer than usual and had even complimented her.
Cheered by this, Quistis walked back to her dorm with a lighter spring in her step. Her room mate and best friend Xu was nowhere to be seen and she was grateful to have the common space to herself for a moment, blissfully reliving the conversation with Squall in her head.
As she dropped her bag onto the table she saw a letter addressed to her. Xu must have brought it in. Quistis opened it up and read it, a smile unfurling across her face when she recognised her father’s handwriting. She spoke to her dad on the phone weekly and saw him every month, but it had always been her parents’ tradition to write letters, a tradition that had continued when Quistis was enrolled at Balamb Garden.
She’d been at Garden since she was nine years old. Her father thought it was the best decision to take after her mother died just two years ago when she was only seven. Quistis often saw the guilt in her dad’s face and she’d been astute enough to realise that people thought she’d harbour resentment and bitterness at the idea of being abandoned at the academy, but honestly… Quistis was happy. The two years she’d been with just her dad were filled with fondness and affection, even as the both of them mourned the loss of her mother, but they had been lonely. She sometimes thought that she reminded him too much of her, and in a way that made his heart ache.
Quistis enjoyed being at Garden surrounded by children her own age, all of them boarding together. It helped her forget that she was the odd one out without a mother. She’d never had lots of friends but it was comforting to know they were all together without parents.
The letter was about what her dad had been doing in the moment he was writing it, describing in detail the vegetable garden they’d planted last summer and recounting a story about one of his patients. She’d already heard this story on the phone last week but it was still amusing to read it in writing.
Quistis smiled as she neared the end of the letter. She folded it back up carefully and slid it into the envelope, getting up from her bed to walk to her small closet. There wasn’t much in it; a spare skirt and jacket that made up her Garden uniform and some casual clothes, plus a black case that contained her chain whip and the equipment needed to take care of it.
Right at the very top, partially obscured from view, were two boxes. She pulled down the purple one and pulled off the lid. It was full of letters from her parents; they’d written one to her every day on her birthday. Her mother had also written a few to her on some different occasions, and the rest were from her father since she’d come to Garden.
Quistis placed her dad’s most recent letter in the box and replaced it back on the shelf. Her eyes lingered on the other smaller teal box next to it. Considering it for a second, she pulled it down and opened it up.
This box had much less in it. There were only a few envelopes in here, but each one was painstakingly and beautifully scripted. Unlike the letters in the other box, these ones had never been delivered. These were letters she had written.
Quistis touched one, eyes glazed over.
Her love letters were her most secret possessions. They were something that she had poured her heart and soul into where she didn’t have to be afraid to tell the truth, to write out what she was truly feeling. There was one for every boy she’d ever liked - four in all.
The first one was for Nida Hall. Summer inter-Garden camp at the age of ten, canoeing in the middle of Obel Lake. She could still recall the sun on her face contrasting with the freezing temperature of the water when they’d capsized. Soaking wet and laughing, Nida had been the perfect gentleman, taking her hand and making sure she was alright before they righted their canoe and climbed back in.
Second letter. Seifer Almasy, one of the most popular boys at Balamb Garden. He happened to be the foster son of the headmaster and his wife. He was the first boy she’d kissed at her first ever boy-girl gathering when she was twelve. Quistis had sat there, a bundle of nerves as the other girls shrieked and giggled over a game of spin the bottle. When it was her turn she’d hesitantly twirled the green glass bottle, watching it turn and turn before it stopped at a tall, blond-haired boy with eyes just as vividly green. He’d grinned easily when she bashfully met his eyes, casual and charming.
The third letter was written in ninth grade after the dance. Zell Dincht, lively and energetic, had hauled her up for several numbers. It was the most fun she’d ever had at a Garden dance as Zell spun her around and taught her moves to a few novelty dances.
And the last letter, her most recent one. Squall Leonhart. She still got butterflies every time she saw him, and whenever he passed her in the hall she’d spend the time leading up to it arranging her posture and facial expression to one that was neutral but still appealing. She snuck looks at him during class and daydreamed what it would be like to brush her hands through those silky brown locks or how his arms would feel around her…
Quistis blushed, giving herself a quick shake. She picked up the letter addressed to Squall, looking at her perfect cursive handwriting spell out his name.
Her letters weren’t for any of them to ever read. They were for herself. Writing them reminded her of how powerful, how all-consuming her feelings could be, and then once every intense longing, thought and careful observation was penned down, she felt like she could move on. Ironically, Quistis wrote a letter when she didn’t want to be in love anymore. It was a cleansing ritual almost, a way of releasing her fervent emotions.
Sometimes, though, her letters were a wistful longing of what might happen if she was brave enough to admit her feelings.
But she knew that would never happen.
“Hey, Q! Are you in there?”
Quistis moved with a start, quickly shoving the lid on top of the teal box and tossing the corner of her blanket over it just as Xu’s head popped in the doorway.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing. I just got back from tutoring. Where were you?”
“We were in the training centre. Trent insists he saw a Granaldo in there once and wanted to show us.”
“A Granaldo? Did you see it?”
“No. All we saw were a bunch of Grats. Alec reckons he was hallucinating. Or drunk. Come on, I’m starving, let’s go get dinner.”
The girls got changed out of their uniforms into their casual clothes. Xu had on a pair of jeans and a white shirt, her brown hair tied up in a ponytail. Quistis’ hair was plaited in two braids by her face and she wore black leggings beneath a Balamb Garden jumper.
“Speaking of Alec…” Xu began significantly as they neared the cafeteria. Quistis looked at her in a quelling manner.
“No, Xu. I told you, I’m not interested. At all.”
Her friend looked put out. “But Quistis, he doesn’t shut up about you. Just give him a chance. One date.”
“No.”
“Why are you so prejudiced? You might like him!”
“I just know I won’t, Xu,” the blonde sighed as they both collected their dinners from the cafeteria ladies. They had had this conversation multiple times. “I mean, he’s nice and all, but I just know we won’t… click.”
Xu made a face as they sat down, “Q, do you ever think those books you keep reading might be ruining it for you?”
“Ruining what?”
“Your expectations of a guy. Not everyone is a hot ripped shirtless hero waiting to save you from a burning building.”
Quistis wrinkled her nose, bemused, “I don’t need anyone to save me. I can take care of myself.”
“You know what I mean!” Xu waved her off impatiently in between bites, “You need to lighten up and have some fun, Q.”
“By going on a date with a guy I know won’t like?” Quistis said incredulously. “That doesn’t sound fun to me.”
“Tell me,” Xu said, leaning in close, “Is there a single guy in Garden you would want to go on a date with?”
Quistis’ heart skipped a beat. Xu was her best friend and had been pretty much since the first day she set foot here, but Quistis had never shared anything about her crushes or her love letters. She knew it was something girls chatted about all the time and bonded over, but they had seemed too sacred to her. She’d never told anyone.
It was probably a good thing. Xu would make it her mission to set her up with anyone she showed even the remotest sign of interest in.
“Aha! There is!” the brunette exclaimed, ecstatic, “Tell me now!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Quistis said swiftly, “I’m not like you, Miss Lin. You still haven’t told me if you sorted out the mess with Clark and Mazacotte.”
Xu flushed, effectively distracted from the previous topic. “It’s not my fault Clark didn’t understand that we were just seeing each other, not exclusive - he’s the one who had to get all butt hurt about another date…”
Quistis giggled throughout dinner as she listened to Xu’s dilemmas. Xu was a year older than her and almost qualified to become a SeeD in just another twelve months; she was exceptional on the field and had a sharp tongue and no-nonsense attitude that made her a tough soldier. She also liked to enjoy life and was outgoing with all kinds of people, taking no rubbish from anyone and fiercely loyal. A lot of boys couldn’t seem to resist her outspoken charm, and Quistis was privy to all the stories of failed dates and strange quirks that Xu had come across.
They parted ways after dinner; Xu running off to have drinks with some other friends and Quistis predictably declining the invitation to join her.
“Prince Charming might be waiting here,” she said in a sing-song voice as they ambled down the cafeteria walkway.
Quistis rolled her eyes, “You better not be referring to Alec.”
“Poor boy’s gonna get his heart shattered by you,” muttered Xu. “Not like he’s the first one.”
“Like you can talk!” she couldn’t help laughing.
“Yeah, but I’m upfront about it. And at least they get to chat to me and realise how much of a red flag I am first - “
“You’re not a red flag, Xu, don’t say that about yourself.”
“ - you, however, remain this exotic mystery and fantasy, completely untouchable, driving them to near madness with their longing and obsession - “
“Oh Hyne, Xu, stop it. Have you been reading romance novels lately?”
When Xu had left in the direction of the dormitory wing, Quistis kept walking towards the library. She wanted to borrow the next part of her novel trilogy and was already dreaming about reading it once she returned back to her dorm.
She waved at the library committee member standing at the desk as she walked to the back of the library, scanning the author surnames and titles. It was quiet and fairly empty given it was a Friday evening and there were only a couple of people sitting at desks or browsing a shelf.
Quistis spotted her book right at the top of a shelf, as far out of reach as it possibly could be. That still didn’t stop her having a try, stretching as far as she could on her toes. She pursed her lips as she considered how she could get it down. There wasn’t a ladder in sight and she didn’t feel like dragging a chair from the study area over - it seemed almost like a blasphemous thing to do. The few people in the library were completely engrossed in their own task, headphones in ears, and didn’t look any taller than her anyway.
She glanced back in the direction of the front desk, resigning herself to the fact that she might have to ask the girl there to help her find a ladder, when she spotted a ruler lying on a desk.
An idea struck her.
It was a short ruler, just half the length of her arm, but it would be enough. She just had to wedge it between the books and jiggle it until it came out enough for her to grab it with her hand…
As she strained on her tiptoes, sweat starting to form on her forehead from the effort, she reflected that it would’ve been easier to just ask for a ladder.
I’m in too deep now. I’m almost there… come on!
Quistis stumbled, losing balance, and the sudden movement yanked the wrong (and much heavier) book out, bouncing off the shelf and smacking her on the forehead.
“Ow!”
She huffed, clutching at her head and glaring at the offending book now lying on the floor. She knew it was stupid and her own fault, but the pain in her head made her seriously consider stomping on the book.
A low chuckle behind her made her whirl around.
There stood Seifer Almasy, leaning against a shelf, his mouth curved in his trademark smirk. He looked so casual and relaxed that she wondered how long he’d been there, watching her struggle. The thought made her flush.
“Having trouble there, Trepe?” he greeted, green eyes dancing with amusement.
Quistis was still rubbing her forehead, hot and embarrassed. “What does it look like, Almasy?” she grumbled. Quistis was never rude or outwardly impatient but he’d caught her in a bad moment. Seifer may have been the second recipient of her love letters and might always have a special place in her young adolescent heart, but in recent years she barely thought about him anymore. They didn’t have much to do with one another these days, and right now his smug cocky self was adding to her annoyance.
“It looks like you’ve been trying and failing to get a book,” he replied smoothly, still leaned up against the shelf. “It also looks like you want to swear at an inanimate object.”
“I don’t swear,” she said curtly.
“Of course you don’t, Miss Priss,” he snickered, making her eyes narrow.
Seifer pushed himself off the shelf, walking over to her as his eyes flicked up. “You after the red one?”
Quistis nodded and looked on in surprise as he came up behind her and reached up, his towering form easily able to pluck the novel without so much as a stretch. When had he gotten so tall? And not just a lanky tall, but seriously built. Perhaps it was all the training he did and football he played.
“Here.” Seifer handed the book to her, his expression clear and genial.
“Oh… thanks,” she replied uncertainly. She watched him bend down to retrieve the fallen book and replace it back on the high shelf.
“Don’t sweat it, Trepe,” he responded, glancing at her with those eyes. They were always amused as if he was enjoying a private joke. “Now you owe me one.”
“What? You just said ‘don’t sweat it’,” Quistis said, chagrined.
“So?”
“Usually when people say ‘don’t sweat it’ they mean they’re not expecting anything,” she stated flatly.
“Really?” He looked supremely unconcerned, “Okay then. Sweat it.”
She arched an eyebrow, “Sweat it?”
“Yep. ‘Cause you owe me. Those braids are cute, by the way.” He flashed her another charming grin, one that usually drove girls wild, and gave her a single wave, almost a salute. “See you around, Trepe.”
He sauntered out of the library, leaving a rather perplexed Quistis. She glanced down at her novel and smiled; at least he’d helped her get her book.