But please, don't talk to him about this not being real. The very idea of it earns a very distressed look. Seifer doesn't get how much he needs this to be real. Needs Billy to be real. Someone who could look past who he was and still have affection for him. Who could help him learn to have that sort of affection for others? Too important. Don't steal it.
Then the next thing hits and the sorrow is replaced by a strange sort of understanding.
"I saw the broadcast, back in Balamb. I applauded you the second I saw your blade to his throat. And when I heard you were put to death..."
It had hit close to home. It had hurt in ways he didn't know how to put into words back then. Because of his parents, he understood now.
"I hear Squall about flipped over it. Shouted down his own team because he didn't like them talking about you like you were dead. Because he didn't want to be like that either or something. But I think... I think if it wasn't you there, it would have been someone else. Of course, the executioner's blade caught up with you later in a way, didn't it?"
His own hand reaches out, not quite touching the scar, but definitely hovering nearby.
"I've felt it, when we've grappled. Squall killed you, didn't he? He was the only one with a blade that could do that much damaged. And the Sorceress picked you up and kept you going. How can you even begin to think that was your own will?"
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But please, don't talk to him about this not being real. The very idea of it earns a very distressed look. Seifer doesn't get how much he needs this to be real. Needs Billy to be real. Someone who could look past who he was and still have affection for him. Who could help him learn to have that sort of affection for others? Too important. Don't steal it.
Then the next thing hits and the sorrow is replaced by a strange sort of understanding.
"I saw the broadcast, back in Balamb. I applauded you the second I saw your blade to his throat. And when I heard you were put to death..."
It had hit close to home. It had hurt in ways he didn't know how to put into words back then. Because of his parents, he understood now.
"I hear Squall about flipped over it. Shouted down his own team because he didn't like them talking about you like you were dead. Because he didn't want to be like that either or something. But I think... I think if it wasn't you there, it would have been someone else. Of course, the executioner's blade caught up with you later in a way, didn't it?"
His own hand reaches out, not quite touching the scar, but definitely hovering nearby.
"I've felt it, when we've grappled. Squall killed you, didn't he? He was the only one with a blade that could do that much damaged. And the Sorceress picked you up and kept you going. How can you even begin to think that was your own will?"