💋 a kiss of the receiver’s choice
There’s no time. There’s no time and that’s all he can think, as the world disintegrates around them.
He should say something, say anything, but there’s no time to think of what. What could he say, anyways? He’s never been one for words, and he’s wasting time trying to think of how he could possibly say goodbye to someone who’s somehow taken up such residence in his heart so quickly.
Especially when he knows neither will remember such a speech, anyways.
That’s not stopping Tidus, though, Squall can see his lips moving as he says something. He can’t hear whatever it is, the panic rushing through his mind drowning out any sound, as much as he wishes he could. Doesn’t want to say goodbye to that voice, not yet.
Doesn’t want to say goodbye to any of it. The sight of him, the trust he’s placed in him, any of what they’ve built together.
But he has to, has known for ages this time they had wasn’t forever, and now he’s running out of time to say something.
So Squall chooses to say nothing, reaching forward to cup Tidus’ face in his hands and pull him in mid-sentence, kissing him as hard as he possibly can. It’s messy, and it’s desperate, any other day he would’ve given so much more care to it, but it’s not any other day. But somehow, it’s so perfectly them.
Squall presses his body against Tidus’ as he all but clings to him, as if hoping he won’t vanish right out from under him like he knows he’s going to. Prays to any damn deity out there that’s listening, one of them has to be, right? Don’t take him. Please.
But if any of them are listening, none are feeling particularly merciful, and the last of Squall’s memories of this place that leaves him is the feeling of Tidus’ lips on his.