Disclaimer: Er, I don't own Kingdom Hearts or any product of Square Enix; I do, however, have rights on this fic... not that it means anything.

A/N: I've been itching to make this pairing fic for a little while. I finally gave in, having nothing that I really wanted to do (productive procrastination on school) for the day, and wrote up some stuff for this. Wasn't sure what I had in mind for this, just knew that I wanted to write a pairing for this couple, so I went ahead and just wrote. :D It was fairly rewarding.

-----

"Seifer! Seifer! Take a picture with me?"

"Butt out, you whore. He'll take his picture with me."

"Who says either of you get to take your picture with him?"

"I think that I get to take my picture with him!"

She had passed by them every day, head low and books cradled close to her pounding chest. Like many of the other girls, she was rather fond of the head of Twilight Town's "disciplinary committee," as it had been put a few years ago – and she despised herself for it. She wasn't exactly like the other girls. She was the one with her face always in the books now, always working an extra job or two in whatever time she had to spare, always home if not at school or work. She was the one who had never had a boyfriend, the one who didn't live with her parents, and the one that was too "stuck up" for her own good. She was the one who had strange dreams about a world that never was, the one sometimes came across what was nothing more than hallucinations, the one who had no friends anymore because of it.

Hayner and Pence (and perhaps one other boy, but she couldn't remember his name) had moved on long ago. After graduating from high school, Hayner had gone off into the wars that had managed to persist. That had been four years ago, and she hadn't heard from him since. Every now and then she would go through her phone and look at the list, gazing long at names of old friends. Pence, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. No decisions of bravery or heroism for Pence; no, the short young man chose instead to become an artist. Occasionally she would receive a package in the mail from him; out would come pictures, sketches, and occasionally even the start of a novel he never finished. These were things she kept neatly organized but hidden out of sight in her closet. They were hers – her memories – and no one else's, and so she decided no one else ever deserved to see them; but she had no memories of her own to give. She felt like she had no life to show.

Today they were graduating college. Every other student besides her seemed to be barreling their way through crowds for someone they knew to take a picture. They all had found someone, friend or lover; they all had a brilliant speech to make, it seemed; they all had somewhere to go after the ceremony. For the exception of her name being called, she had seated herself on a lone bench underneath a similarly lonely tree. Inspired by a recent sketch sent to her from Pence, she had purchased a pad and began doodling on it herself. None of her drawings were as creative or as professional as her friend's, she knew, but she considered them alright for someone who had little, if any, experience in the artistic department.

As the crowds began to disperse, she curled her legs underneath her and attempted to become more comfortable. The graduation gown was nothing short of suffocating and irritating on the skin, but she could handle it. Her concentration was elsewhere. Her fingers gripped the mechanical pencil as her wrist made calculated movements to sketch what she saw. Not far off from her, nestled in a patch of flowers, was a bird. It was nothing spectacular to look at, but she found that she often was appreciating nature more than others whom she knew.

The finishing touches were coming along nicely until her subject uttered a cry of distress, its wings fluttered, and it flew away. Its small and plump body had been replaced by several shadows.

"Seifer! Where you going, man?"

"I need to grab my junk out of the building; left it there. Forgot about it for some reason. I'll catch you guys at the club later! My car's out back!"

"Peace!"

The short conversation caused her to grip her pencil so tightly that her hand began to tremble. She wasn't quite satisfied with her drawing but she could finish the piece at home. It was her best yet, and she was excited to send something back to Pence for once; but now all her mind could think on was the man of envy and adoration that was strolling in her direction. Instantly she was filled with a strong desire to evacuate the area. With dismay, she realized there was no one around for her to call out to pick up a ride home. As Seifer's friends drove off in a sleek red car, the fading rumble left her the realization that she had sat here again, alone, until everyone else had left. The brunette exhaled softly, removing her hat and gathering it up with her books and pencil. It was time to go to her apartment. Seeing as she had no ride, she'd have to walk.

Her feet protested as she slid onto them and her gown caught around her ankles. She stumbled more unceremoniously and out of reflex her hand shot out to grab onto something to help her balance. She expected nothing to be there. The ceremony had taken place in a lawn with benches, and the nearest seating area was a few feet away; she would fall on her face and would just have to pick herself up and move on. Chance defied her logic as her fingers curled into another gown passing by. The weight of her fall caused the fabric to rip loudly, but her grip hadn't saved her in the least from landing on the ground. Her possessions scattered helplessly to into the grass as she slid face first downwards, her legs scraping painfully against the metal plank of the bench.

She had always hated being like other girls. She didn't want to be seen as weak or useless; she could hold her own! Remembering this, she scrambled to her hands and knees and began to retrieve her books.

"I'm sorry," she chanted in apology, eyes kept fixated on the ground. She knew who she had bumped into; she didn't want attention and she definitely didn't want trouble.

"Your robe, I can pay for it if you want, it's not a big deal; it was an accident and I wasn't paying attention to my feet –"

"It's fine."

A hand entered her line of vision and she became aware that he was handing her the pad. She felt a heat rush to her cheeks, concern about his opinion of her sketch rampant in her mind. Hesitantly, and extremely careful to avoid actual physical contact, she took the sketchpad back and added it to her growing stack of belongings. She slipped it underneath another book so that the image was hidden from sight.

"You're that girl who sits by herself a lot, huh?"

That much seemed obvious, she thought to herself, reluctant to rise to her feet although she had finally collected everything. She simply nodded, wishing for this person to leave her alone so she could begin her walk home.

"I remember you. You were with that little punk back way back when, when I was still in charge of the Disciplinary Committee. You're name's Olla or something, isn't it?"

"Olette," she corrected politely, finding a strange sensation of pleasure flutter inside of her. She was remembered by someone. It meant a lot to her. Lately she was a nobody that spent time with absolutely nobody. She was a laughing discussion for all of the girls and not even on the radar for most of the boys. To have one of the most popular boys in their now graduated group of classes recognize her, especially from years past, was something significant. The brunette then realized that she didn't want his attention like all the other girls did. She could live life without him. She rose to her feet, noting that he mimicked the movement with her, and regained her composure.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to get home."

"I don't see a car. You waiting for a ride?"

"You could say that."

A sinking feeling gathered in her stomach and she realized he wasn't going to let her go so easily. Why was he giving her attention? Why was he talking to her when she shunned all the others? There were plenty of more attractive girls that were fighting for his affection; she wasn't one of them and she didn't need this. He didn't need to butt into her life!

"Why don't I give you a ride?"

"Seifer, isn't it? I think I will manage on my own just fine; I've done well enough throughout every single other day of college doing that, and this last day should be no different," she huffed. She didn't want his attention, she didn't need it, and she reminded herself of that repeatedly now. No matter how her younger heart had yearned for it, she wasn't a child anymore. She was a college graduate who needed a life.

Her legs protested and she knew very well she had probably scraped the skin away from her fall, but she had to get away from him. Olette forced herself into movement, careful not to trip over her gown again, and began to stalk towards the street that she knew was not that far off. It was only a little distance down the small slope she was on, and then she could make her way home. He wasn't going to follow her, he was better than that. Seifer Almasy didn't go after girls, they went after him. It was fine.

True to her reasoning so far, he had said nothing and as she glanced back some distance down the little hill, she saw no one there. He must have gone to get his things and go like everyone else, she thought. Why did that bother her? She would have liked it if someone, even him, had gone after her; it would have shown the concern from someone else that she was lacking. Several minutes down the road, she glanced back after her again to see the same thing as before. There was no one there. There were no cars, no people, not even a Gummi ship in the sky. She had read stories where sometimes the man would drive up and offer the lady a ride home. It didn't happen. She walked home in disappointed silence.