胸に刻まれた君の微かな
白い記憶は水のように・・・ XXXXXXXX
XXXXXXX 何も残さずに側にいたかもしれない
という影だけを残して
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という影だけを残して

その影も少しずつ音もたてず
静かに消えていく
静かに消えていく
Squall stuck his hand out and stiffly completed the handshake. Seifer's fingers closed around his hand firmly, and Squall knew that if Seifer wanted to, he could break every bone in his hand. It took a lot of physical strength to hold a gunblade the way Seifer did.
"Maybe we'll see each other again sometime," Squall said gravely.
"This isn't a funeral, Leonhart. I'm sure Matron will plan some sort of reunion supper that she'll wrangle us all into attending. It's a small world."
"Yeah..."
They looked into each other's eyes with complete familiarity. They knew each other probably better than anyone else did. Then, it happened. Their gazes held just for a heartbeat too long. If they'd broken the handshake and said their final goodbyes, perhaps they wouldn't have suddenly been all over each other, mouths fused together passionately. Later, in the endless moments both men would spend thinking about how and why it happened, neither would be able to figure out who exactly started the kiss, whose hands exactly had started roaming over the other's body.

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