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Rinoa had been falling in love with Squall for some time — or maybe she had been in love with him for some time. It had sparked in her in a moment and she had realised almost the next moment. She was not accustomed to hiding her feelings but Squall was — different. He was different from the boys she had been with before and different from everyone she had ever met.
It was a difficult situation for her. She watched him now, covered in sweat and grime, as he climbed a ladder deep within the bowels of Balamb Garden, determined to do whatever he could to save his adopted home. What was she doing here? If the missiles hit Garden she would also die. She was no SeeD, she had no emotional connection to the place. But Squall was here and fighting as hard as he could and so she was here too.
She loved him. This was the first moment that she had acknowledged it to herself but she knew that the feeling was getting stronger every moment she spent in his company, and that it was hopeless. He would never open up to her.
She had misunderstood him at first. He had seemed so cold. Their brief flirtation at the ball he had dismissed as ‘training’: it seemed so mercenary, that was who he had seemed to be. It had bothered her that he was so aloof, so unfeeling: yes, he was cute — and that first night that they had met she had been charmed by his awkwardness and his earnestness — but so cold. When they met again in Timber she was taken aback by how much she seemed to have misjudged him. How could this man who had let her lead him by the hand onto the dance-floor, seemed so vulnerable, and applied himself so diligently to learning the steps, be so pitiless.
Seifer had been different. He had bewitched her. That last summer he had held her in his arms and tilted her face to look at him: “Babe, leave it to me. We’ll overthrow Galbadia. You’ll see.” It had made her feel like she could do anything, take on anybody.
He had always talked a big talk: about becoming a SeeD, about everything. But she had to acknowledge now that none of it had materialised and the last time she had seen him he was a pawn of the Sorceress. She knew — at least she believed — that he had tortured Squall. Squall had said that he was ‘questioned’. Zell had said that it was torture. Where had Seifer’s high-minded ideals been at that moment? How could someone so hot have run so cold?
But being with him had been exhilarating: he had talked as if he could do anything and made her feel that everything would work out as long as he was by her side. She thought all SeeDs would be like him. Then Squall came along and his gaze cut through her plans and dreams without mercy. He made her feel like a child, playing at politics. She wanted to make him understood what this meant to her, why they had to try even if they were disorganised, even if their plans were last-minute. And he refused to.
That was why it was so hopeless that she loved him because he would never understand her feelings. These kinds of feelings were a luxury he felt he could not afford, for whatever reason. That was just how he felt about it.
She wanted to crack him open.
It would have been better if she had never seen into him. If he had never shown her any tenderness. He had never sugarcoated things and she had always felt that was his failing as a leader. She understood now that he was trying to be useful, to avoid saying useless things — to avoid giving false hope. She knew now that he felt things as deeply as she did — maybe even more deeply than Seifer — but he just kept them hidden.
Here he was climbing, climbing, for the slimmest chance at saving his home. When was the last time he had slept since their escape from the D-District prison? He had no visible cuts or scars from the torture but he moved a little more slowly: muscles fatigued, masking a deep ache. His clothes were drenched in sweat and it was a scent she had found almost intoxicating when they had reunited. How had his shoulder healed? Did it hurt to climb with it? She had thought he had died. That was the moment that she knew in her heart she had fallen in love with him. That was when she understood what was happening to her.
“Just stay close to me”.
That was all it had taken. Just five words. But they were unnecessary words. He had spoken them to comfort her — so that she knew he would protect her. He could have left her behind and continued the mission but instead he told her to stay close to him and it left her breathless. It was a source of such unexpected comfort. Of course he had saved her life: she was his client — but the words he spoke and the gentleness under his annoyance and sarcasm penetrated her.
But what was she supposed to do with these feelings? He would never reciprocate. She knew this as she watched him crash through the plate glass window — and she lurched forward in fear for his life. But he was all right. He was all right without her and so he would never turn to her.
Yet she had decided — in the moment that she returned to D-District with Irvine — that she only wanted to be around him. She felt sure that she would be safe as long as she stayed by his side. The world was falling to pieces around them. Nothing made any sense. But Squall did.
When he rejoined them on the ground she wanted to pull him in, to check him over for bruises, to hold him tight and just be glad that he was safe. She looked at him a little too long and he caught her eye. He frowned a little in confusion and then said, “Come on, let’s go.”
It was a strange and new feeling for her to be in love with someone like Squall — to be in love at all, really. Yet despite everything including the very real possibility that they might die she felt comforted by his presence, his consternation, his bafflement at her.
She smiled and nodded. “Let’s go.”