FicWad

It wasn't all that long ago that I was accustomed to waking up in an empty bed. Didn't really strike me as unusual back then. I was alone, after all, and that's what you do when you're alone: you wake up without the sense of another's presence by you, having guarded and joined you in your slumber. Now, the feeling of being alone when I awaken is alien and bizarre to me, no longer regular routine but a custom I turned from seemingly permanently.

I miss those days.

Beside me in this room, unfamiliar to me but growing more well-known with each passing day, Seifer lets out a fairly loud snore. That's the only interaction with the world around him that he has for the moment, though, and now he resumes his usual practice at this hour--lying in his bed like a slug.

Groaning slightly at the unpleasant exertion of it, I manage to sit upright on the bed, turning to the side to let my legs dangle off the side, wincing as my feet touch the cold, unpleasant floor. Seifer either has a perfect internal clock or no concept of time, because the only clock that's ever in this room is the watch I always bring with me. Which tells me, once I retrieve my glasses from the night stand and put them on, that I've woken up right on time, with just the right amount of time to get myself dressed, go home, get cleaned up, get ready for the day, and then begin my day of teaching SeeD cadets at Balamb Garden. It's tidy, organized, and precise, a daily routine that begins each and every day with my prompt, early awakening. I don't even have to set an alarm clock for myself; my body just automatically knows when to wake up.

It's a habit I doubt I could break if I tried.

I set about finding my clothes, strewn around the room as usual. I've given up asking Seifer to kindly not throw them every which way each night. If he's even heard me any of the times, he's probably decided to keep doing it just to spite me.

I complete my first task after a moment, which is to find my underwear. Bra and panties are on completely different sides of the room, and I wonder for a moment if he might have even knowingly did that, as well, to annoy me.

"Where're you going?" comes a voice, its abrasive nature only a little dulled by the groggy haze over it.

"Work," I reply, not even bothering to look over as I look for my stockings. Oh, here, draped over his musty armchair he got at a yard sale, which I know has never been cleaned in its long life. Lovely.

"You should take a day off," comes the voice again, sleepiness dissipating. "Live a little. Hit the town, have a few drinks, some real food. That shit they spoon-feed you at the Garden ain't the same."

In the year since his expulsion from the Garden and our triumphant return from saving our world's timeline, Seifer's less-than-charming personality has only gotten worse with the addition of a liberal use of swears to his speech patterns.

By now, I'm onto the outermost parts of my typical outfit. "My job is too important to fritter away on meaningless diversions, Seifer. I teach these people how to survive in life-or-death combat situations. If they die on a mission because they didn't get taught a vital survival skill one day that I decided I wanted to waste my time, their deaths come onto my shoulders."

"I'll understand if you've never encountered them with your perfect attendance record, but there ARE these people at that place called "Substitute Teachers." It's their job to cover for you on days that you want to enjoy yourself rather than stare at some dimwitted little turds for hours on end as they kiss up and fail exams. Usually in the opposite order. You should feel ashamed, Teach--you're probably putting all those poor subs out of work with your educational excellence."

As usual, I ignore the sarcastic sting to whatever Seifer says in favor of not caring. "If you know any that have equal combat experience to someone who's tangled with the most powerful sorceress this world will ever see from here on out, let me know."

Seifer knows I won't be persuaded (this isn't the first time we've had this conversation before), so as usual, he turns to sarcastic insults instead. "Well, that's great for you, then, prof. You go and have your big day doing big things for big people. The rest of us will try not to get in your way until it's convenient for you."

"Seifer," I respond blandly as I finish dressing myself, "I suspect the only reason you say such things is because you're angry that YOU are not big and never will be."

"In any way," I add on as an after thought.

"That's not what you were saying last night, honey."

"Selective amnesia. That WAS what I was saying last night. That's something I say almost every night."

"Yeah, well," he sneers, "You keep coming back for it, so either you've somehow missed your dozens-strong fanclub of boys and girls who'd want nothing more from life than to do once what I do every night, or I've got something special that you can't get anywhere else, babe."

"I'm not here to appease your over-sensitive ego, Seifer."

"Yeah?" he practically spits. "Well, then, Teacher, let me just raise my hand like a good little student and ask you a question. If it ain't because you like me and it ain't because I have moves no one else has, then tell me this:

"Why are you here?"


I haven't been teaching very long at Balamb Garden. Yet even so, I am already beginning to see patterns with the new students each semester. Some are cheerful and open, some are quiet yet remarkable students, some are trouble-makers (thankfully none have come close to the standard Seifer set, however). Independent thinkers, solid followers, loners, cooperators, warriors, techies, slackers, overzealous workers...they're all there. Each one unique in small ways, enough to make him a person, yet overall fitting into a role, whether self-imposed or given by others' expectations or a mixture of both. Many often remind me of my friends. I've yet to see anyone quite as cheerful as Selphie or as apathetic to those around them as Squall was, but the kinds of people are still there.

Other, older professors here have spoken of this phenomenon, and I can already see it's true. All classes are unique, yet the same.

Of course, there are still a few who are harder to classify...those who don't seem to have a set personality, or perhaps are still finding their way. They seem a bit lost at times. And I wonder, after my class each day, what do they do? Where do they go? After my semester with them, where will they go from here? Do these young men and women find their way in life? What happens when they don't?

Interesting things to ponder as my students quietly take their morning test. I have nothing else of particular interest to think about for the moment, after all. My planned schedule does my thinking for me at my job, and what more would I concentrate on? My days are so very routine now. I'm at work until class time is over for the Garden, then I work on my paperwork Once I have gotten done preparing myself for my next day's class, I watch some news, take care of various personal matters, and either seek out Seifer to spend the night with, or, if I'm not in the mood for it, I just stay at home and sleep in my own neglected bed.

Ah, time is up. I call for everyone to pass in their exams, and the front of my desk becomes a sea of faces, some confident, some despairing, still others focused on other concerns. Soon the room is empty, save for myself, and a young man and woman from my class who have stayed behind. I raise my eyebrow.

"Borus, Tia. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Professor Trepe, we, uh, that is, we were, um, wondering..." Borus starts. He's stammering terribly and looking very lost, yet he does have determination to his voice.

"Have you ever heard of the secret area of the training section of the Garden?" Tia asks for Borus, much more calmly. Without waiting for my response, she continues, "It's a little area where a lot of students go each night after curfew to just hang out. I know it's not exactly something a professor would normally approve of, but..."

"We were just, um, wondering if you might want to...go there with us some time? Just for fun...we wouldn't tell anyone you went, of course!" Borus interjects, having managed to mostly compose myself.

I very carefully hide a small smile to myself. If I'm not mistaken, two of my students are trying to ask me out on a date of sorts. Trepies, no doubt...yes, I do actually know about them now (only so long you can go without eventually becoming aware, particularly when you happen to be the idol they formed around). How very ironic that almost exactly a year after I invited one of my students there for a night, now some of my students invite me.

I do consider it for a moment. I'm afraid I have to say, and I do truly regret it, that Tia and her fellow female Trepies are chasing a futile dream. I feel bad about that, but the fact of the matter is that I'm just not interested in women, and I doubt that's ever going to change. Borus, however...well, he is a rather nice boy, and it's not like the age difference is much at all. Handsome, too, with an earnest face and light blonde hair. He could be my type, I suppose. Though I really can't say I have any idea of what "my type" is like.

But...no. I really can't accept the offer. It just...it wouldn't work. That's all there is to it. No sense in trying to make it.

"I'm sorry," I respond gently, smiling at them both to show I mean no offense at all, "but I think I'll have to decline, for many reasons."

Borus looks a bit crestfallen, as does Tia. She speaks for both. "Alright, Professor...thanks anyways...but what reasons? Why not?"


Lunch time. Though I could choose to eat at my residence here at Balamb, or in the teacher's lounge with my colleagues, I invariably always find myself dining midday at the general café with all the students and graduated SeeDs, and usually my friends. Already I can see Zell in a long line, his face as hopeful as ever that today he'll get some hot dogs before they're out. In the many months since he finally got to sample some during our celebration after beating Ultimecia, I'm not sure he's ever been early enough to get some since.

I hope Borus and Tia are okay. I gave them their answer in the form of a lecture on my responsibilities as a teacher to discourage disregard for Garden curfews, and that I need to maintain a strictly professional relationship with my students. Good reasons, that they seemed reluctantly satisfied with. I'm trying not to think about the hypocrisy of everything I just told them when just last year I was the one asking one of my students to do the same thing that they had wanted.

Speaking of Squall, he and Rinoa have spotted me in my usual place and are making their way over here.

"Hi, Quistis!" Rinoa greets me as she sits across from me. "How are you today?"

"I'm well," I answer automatically. "How are you both?"

"Oh, same old, same old," Rinoa replies, sighing. Squall grunts in agreement. "SeeD training's pretty tough. This one professor I have, Mr. Trenouth? I think he's completely incompetent..."

Rinoa's tale continues on without me as I focus my attention on eating, relying on Squall to cover for me with his usual non-verbal "I'm listening" noises. I know it's not the nicest thing to do to someone whom I count as a friend, but really, I've heard her (and a great many others, I might add) complain at length before on this one teacher, and she's really always more interested that Squall is paying attention than anyone else.

"Rinny, Quisty, Squall!" says a cheerful voice behind me. "Hi!"

I turn my head, not that I need to. Selphie's voice and attitude give her away easily without visual confirmation. She sits down beside me, and the three of us greet her in our usual fashion-Squall with a nod, I with a friendly and quiet hello, Rinoa with a quick smile and "Hi!"

"How's everyone?" she asks as she begins eating.

"I was just telling everyone about my latest problem with that Trenouth guy," Rinoa answers.

"Oooh, yeah, he's a pain in the butt," Selphie replies, and the two begin to chat My mind wanders as I watch the two of them (I don't actually know the man at all, so I can't really contribute to the conversation). Rinoa's engaged to Squall now. I've heard that she's the one who "popped the question," so to speak. A big breach in tradition, of course, but I think we'd all have been far more surprised if it had been the other way around.

Not that she hasn't brought him leaps and bounds forward in social interaction, of course. Sometimes it almost seems like he's a second Angelo to her-each little step she gets him to take toward speaking regularly to people is like a new trick, whether it be conversing a little about something not related to business, or making the majority of his sentences have a pleasant tone to them rather than an insulting one.

There are even some rumors that he's actually started conversation with some people. Are they true? Well, Squall predictably won't say a word on the subject.

Then there's Selphie. She and Irvine are now officially seeing each other (I wonder what exactly the difference is between now and when they were "unofficially" seeing each other?). Like Squall and Rinoa, they don't really seem like they'd be a good match for each other-there's only so far that the saying "opposites attract" is true-yet here they are, happy with their relationship despite the many small arguments they have. If I didn't know any better-or perhaps I say this because I do-I would think that a great many of those small conflicts are put on for the onlookers' benefit, a farce which convinces us (and maybe them) that their relationship is less serious than it really is.

I seem to be thinking about the changes my friends have gone through a lot lately...the evolutions their love lives have had. That in particular. I guess I just really wish I had someone...but, I just don't have the time right now. My routine is all I can really handle in my life at the moment, regardless of what else I might want.

Besides, it's been good enough for me so far, so why break my stride?


My classes have done a very admirable job on their exams today, I've found as I mark them. Certainly there have been plenty of problems as the to-do stack on my desk diminishes, but overall, I am so far pleased.

There's a knock on my office door. Raising my eyebrows at the uncommon happening-it's far after my standard office hours, after all, and I'm only here because I prefer correcting papers and tests in my office than at home-I bid the knocker to enter.

Irvine, walking in with his usual swagger full of bravado (a fair part of it nothing more than pretense, of course), looks to be my visitor.

"Hey, Quistis, how's it going?" he asks. Not waiting for my reply, he continues, "Hard at work as usual, I see. I won't take up too much of your time. Me and Selphie were wondering, though, if you'd like to go out with us tonight and have some fun. I've caught wind of this little club-kinda new and probably small, but supposed to be a real good time. Whatcha say? Good food, good fun, maybe a chance to hook up with someone, eh?"

"Tempting, but I'm not much of a club person," I answer truthfully. "Besides which, I have a lot of work to do with these exams. Thank you anyways, Irvine."

He shrugs. "Okay, Quistis, no problem. But hey, you ever change your mind and want to go out with us some time, we'd be happy to oblige. We don't see enough of you these days. Can't stay cooped up in this little private world of yours here forever, right?"


The city of Balamb is very different at night than it is during the day. In daylight, it's an honest, cheerful community focused on neighborly cooperation in managing its pier and shipping industries. Bright, friendly, and eager.

At night, it transforms a good deal, however. Not into anything especially dark or nasty, of course. Despite a fairly thriving local industry, it's still a small town. However, it does get a lot tougher at night-many rowdy men wandering about, drifting in and out of pubs after a hard day's work. The same drinks they take to relax them can often make them surly and unruly, though, and the kind town attitude you find abundant during the day can vanish in an instant should you cross them.

Not that I'm particularly concerned as I walk down a badly-lit street in the gloom. Any SeeD is well-prepared for the occasional drunk ruffian, and after dealing with monsters larger than most buildings, the thought that I need be concerned by a regular man with inhibited speed and reflexes is a little humorous.

I arrive at my destination, shivering a little at the cold air that sweeps in from the ocean. There is no real "bad" part of town to Balamb, but Seifer's home is not one with a high property value, either.

I knock on the door and wait for a moment. There's a sound of someone shuffling within, and after a few moments, the door opens and Seifer stands before me, dressed as he always is on his off time-the same decorated trench coat, the same clothes under it, the same arrogant smile. I don't know what he wears to whatever job it is that he has during the day to cover his living expenses-this is pretty much all he ever shows me of his wardrobe.

Of course, I'm no better, I suppose-I always wear the same pink outfit as ever when I go to see him. Habit, I suppose, same as so many other things I do.

"Eh," he grunts in way of greeting, stepping aside to let me in. "C'mon in."

I comply with his invitation and leave the gloomy street behind, trading it for the new setting of Seifer's dark and messily-kept home. Upon further thought about it, it occurs to me that, with the state his living room is in, it might actually be considerably safer to one's health to walk down Balamb's streets at night than it is to walk through Seifer's residence.

I start to head towards the bedroom as usual, but stop as Seifer addresses me. "So, you eaten? Maybe want a drink or something? I was about to make myself something."

"No thanks," I answer. "I can just wait for you while you eat, though."

"Ahhh, forget it," he replies, shrugging. "My cooking sucks almost as bad as that Garden shit, anyways. Come on, let's do it."

"Alright," I answer. What was that about?

I lead the way to the one room I know best of Seifer's house, and he follows. As I do this, I wonder, not for the first time, how this all started, anyways. I mean, I know the events that lead to it. Several months ago, I'd found out Seifer was actually living right outside the Garden in Balamb, and had stopped by to say hello and see how he was doing. The actual visit I can't remember so well, but I do know that it had been uneventful at first. He didn't seem too eager to talk, and I can't say I felt the same-I went more out of a feeling of duty to be polite than anything, I think. Then...well, up until then, I'd never really understood people who said they've found themselves in bed with someone before they really even know what's going on. It always seemed to me that one must have some sort of conscious understanding of it.

Of course, once I found that it had happened to me, I revised my thinking on the matter a little. Now I think that this phenomenon so many people describe, that seems so unreal, of just somehow finding themselves in bed with someone else for reasons they're not sure about, might be something like the effects of mob mentality. One is conscious of what one is doing on one level, yet it seems as though one is simply without control, swept away by a feeling greater than one's own power of choice. As though watching a video of it happening.

I'm not sure if that's really accurate, but I'm afraid it's the only explanation I have for why Seifer and I had sex that night. And why the next time I visited, it happened again. After a little while, the visits became more frequent, and it eventually became part of my usual routine whenever the need struck me, an outlet for sexual urges that up until now I've only ever satisfied by myself. Seifer's never complained about it, though he hasn't exactly been easy to get along with, either. But that's just his natural disposition.

Once in the room, I walk to the small table beside Seifer's bed and remove both my watch and my glasses, placing them upon it. Seifer stands a few feet behind me and removes his large coat, letting it fall to the floor in a graceless pile. I turn to him, and his hands come up to begin removing my garments. As usual, my increasingly-aroused state is interrupted by a flash of annoyance as my clothing begins to be tossed all over the room as always. When he's made his way down to taking off my stockings, I note with irate dismay that they've once again been thrown upon his old, dirty armchair. Great.

Once my bra is gone, he wastes no time in getting to work. His mouth moves forward quickly to attack mine while his hands come to my exposed breasts and start to play with them. It goes without saying, of course, that both his kiss and his play are heavy and rough-a perfect metaphor for he himself. But it's not harsh to a painful extent, and whatever else the man may be, he's not a bad kisser. After a structured and often dull day, his aggressive technique is usually a welcome contrast to the norm. It breaks through, grips me, and forces me to act on impulse to return it.

It also gets me fairly aroused, I might add. I can feel my nipples hardening into small points, and the beginnings of real excitement between my legs. The feeling grows a little as Seifer, either noticing my breasts' condition or just having good timing, begins to concentrate his wandering and groping hands upon my nipples, brushing them and making me groan a little into his mouth.

As he keeps this up, I move my hands to the bottom of his predominantly blue shirt, and begin to lift it. Taking his cue, he disconnects his mouth and hands from me, standing up straight and lifting his arms so I can get the shirt off. Seifer doesn't wear anything beneath this article of clothing, so his bare chest is exposed before me. And I mean bare-there isn't really any hair on it to speak of. Apparently, this is a somewhat sore point with him, as I found out the first time I made comment on it. Doubtless part of the male-ego thing he has which I will never really understand. Regardless, I happen to like him this way as opposed to being covered with hair-it's much cleaner and nice-looking. I drop the shirt to the side, and run my hands along his torso and chest. It's his turn to groan slightly.

He puts his arms around me and brings me closer to him, pressing against me as his hands explore their way down my backside to finally stay upon my posterior, gripping each side and bringing me into further contact with him.

I can feel the definite bulge in his pants now pressing against my front, rubbing in eager anticipation and arousing me further. I decide to help him out and slip my hands between us, moving them down to his belt. I unhook it as he squeezes encouragingly, and then undo his pants and let them and his boxers drop to the floor. His penis stretches out at full attention.

I must confess I lie whenever I tell him that it's small. It's not. Granted, it's not particularly big, either, but it's not small-just about average, about a little under 6 inches, if my understanding of general male size is accurate (can't say I have had much other experience nor inclination to research the matter, though). I don't mock him out of malicious intent, really. It's just a defense mechanism of sorts to keep his already over-abundant ego in check. He doesn't seem to take too much real offense to it, anyways. Just as I don't take too much offense to his biting attitude, really.

I step a bit to the side and let my hand rest upon his member, curling itself around him. I slowly stroke it a little as he groans in pleasure.

"Mmm," Seifer grunts, "Two can play at that game, prof..."

One of his hands moves from its position behind me, tracing a path along my thigh until it reaches the front of my underwear. With little preamble, he slides his hand in from the top, and begins to rub against my outer lips. It feels VERY good, something that I express through a quiet but very strongly-felt "Oh!"

I remove my hand from its task and reach to remove my underwear to allow him better access. It slides down my legs, and I try to maintain my balance well enough to lift my leg to step out of it. This isn't helped by his suddenly pushing one finger past my entrance and into me, energetically probing me from within. I nearly fall over as the pleasurable shock hits me.

"Idiot," I gasp out, my determination to rebuke him almost not enough to form the words, "I could've fallen!"

Seifer seems to think on this for a moment (though he doesn't slow his finger's actions at all). Then he takes his hand away and lightly but forcefully pushes me backward before I can even let out a whimper at the loss. I wave my arms in a futile attempt to regain balance, and then fall backwards onto his bed. Seifer grins in a self-pleased manner. Jerk.

His moment of amusement had, Seifer bends down to retrieve a small package from the pocket of his pants, opens it, and dons the condom within. I already handle my end of birth control with pills, but he never fails to make sure to play it safe nonetheless. Considering that having a child with one another is the least thing either of us wants at the moment, I can appreciate his caution regardless of its redundancy.

He now descends on me, ready to really get things going. I'm certainly more than ready-his play has left a burning need in me for more, and that's what I get as he climbs over me and then carefully pushes himself within me. I groan a little as I feel it push its way into me, the pure pleasure and the sense of being filled overwhelming me.

He stops, having gone as far as he's going to. My arms fly to join around his back, and I raise my head for another strong, powerful kiss. As our tongues meet, he moves himself back, bringing his length out of me, then pumps it back in hard. It feels GOOD, and I moan into the kiss and spread my legs wide.

He sets a pace after that, pushing in and out, grunting now and then as he thrusts. It's a hard, rough, but satisfying rhythm that I do my best to match as the pleasure builds within me. Soon, it's too much and too fast to keep the kiss, and our faces are drawn apart, my moans and his grunts issuing freely from within us. I'm getting pretty close now, the pleasure building up within me like a tight coil being pushed down, more and more...

Suddenly, Seifer pulls out, shaking and gasping hoarsely from orgasm. He immediately replaces his member's sudden absence with a couple of fingers and pumps them in and out of me at a fast pace, using his thumb to push against my clit. That's it for me-I call out something unintelligible for a moment as my entire world contracts in bliss on those two fingers.

Afterwards, Seifer pulls on his pants, we both climb under the covers, the light is shut off, and we fall to sleep.


"Where're you going so early?" comes a sleepy voice from the bed.

"Work," I answer, halfway dressed already. The sun is shining and I'm right on time, as usual.

Seifer fully awakens himself as I'm fixing my top. "You oughta go out for breakfast with me some time. Today. Eating that Garden crap every day can't be good for you," he says after yawning. "Even with all the apples you eat thanks to your adoring little students."

"Seifer," I reply, half exasperated but not enough to cease dressing myself, "We've been over this many times now. My job is--"

"Too important. Right, right, got that, Teach, I studied the notes and everything," he says in his usual grating way. "We've also been over why it'd be okay for you to ditch all those dweebs for a day."

I sigh. "Seifer, I can't. I'm not going to today, I didn't yesterday, and I'm not going to tomorrow, either. Deal with it."

This seems to silence him for a moment...then I jump in surprise as I hear his fist hit the wall. Hard. I turn around just in time to see him yell at me, "Well why the hell NOT, huh!? What the hell is your problem, Quistis? You got a problem with me, is that it? What's the deal, you got no problem having me fuck you senseless each night but I can't buy you breakfast? Why do you COME here, what do you WANT? WHY can't you just do something THAT simple?"

This shouted outburst of rage takes me completely by surprise. Eyes wide, I stammer, "I...I'm sorry, but...I can't...I have a...that's my way of doing things...I didn't mean upset you. I just have a schedule that I always keep, and..."

His fist hits the wall again. "Oh, yeah, the precious FUCKING schedule! Always the same thing, each day, and heaven forbid ANYTHING disrupt it! Hey, Professor, here's a quick lesson for you: the world didn't fucking STOP when you did. Times aren't the same as they were. Your friends aren't the same. I'M not the same person I was!

"But you," he continues, sneering, "you're too gutless to see that! You're fucking AFRAID of change, you know that? Afraid of breaking your precious schedule, afraid of doing anything new, afraid of finding out that I'm at all different than I was a year ago."

I just stand, dumbfounded, as he continues his tirade. "You know something, teach? You can go ahead and decide to live in the past and ignore everything around you, but I'm sick of just being some fucking tool to you, a quick lay you don't even fucking talk to. You wanna come back here tonight or any other night, you better have broken out of whatever fucking cage you're in."

And with that, he gets up out of his bed and leaves the room, leaving me rooted to the spot. After a moment, I finish dressing myself completely and also leave the room.

I find Seifer sitting in a chair, flipping through a morning paper with a bored expression on his face. After a moment of my standing there, he looks up. "Yeah?"

I wait a moment...then shrug. "I'm ready to go. They just better have good eggs."