Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Lightning. ❯ Chapter, The Eighth: In Which Seifer and Zell Don’t Have Dinner. ( Chapter 8 )

Eoko: Oh my gods! I actually managed to remember to post on the correct date! Go me. I wanna say something though. A lot of people have mentioned that the chapters are rather short.
Well, first off, they are a minimum of 5 typed pages after the first several, and it’s not our fault HTMLing them ends up making the page wider and thus requires less length. Secondly, it is a collaboration fanfic, which means Kitty writes one chapter, then I write the next, then her, then me. I’m sure you’ve notice how much can happen in one chapter as is, and making them extensively long would not be a good idea. Why?
I can tell you why it’d be bad for a collaboration. If you write a lot, you get a big plot of your own going. You may even want something specific to happen in the next chapter, but you have no control over that chapter. By keeping them relatively, but not really too short, we fulfill our desires for the chapter and also leave it open enough so as not to put a stopper on the vaguer plot ideas of the other.
And if you’re REALLY obsessive and need to read MORE stuff go read our chat logs on the ValEoKitty Archives. I’ve gotten all of November 2003 up and am working my way through December between fanfiction and university. Surprisingly going rather quickly… Anyway, Homepage link at bios. And Enjoy.
Chapter, The Eighth: In Which Seifer and Zell Don’t Have Dinner.

Zell sat on his bed, alone for once. After he had walked Seifer back to his room, he’d left to go to his own.

What was that about?

Zell couldn’t understand why he had stopped Seifer. He’d never done it before. He just seemed to overstep his bounds this time, though it hadn’t ever bothered him before, never, not once, why now?

His gaze shifted over to his helmet, sitting on a hook by his door. He tilted his head a little, then reached over and grabbed his phone, dialing his Ma, who picked up, like always on the second ring.

“Hello, Dincht residence.”

“Hey Ma, how are you?”

“Oh Zell! I’m wonderful, dear. How are you?”

“Feeling a little homesick. You too busy to have your baby boy over for the night?”

“Oh honey, I’m never too busy for you. Have you had dinner yet?”

“No. Seif and I were going to go grab some, but something came up and we had to make a rain-check.”

“Well, I’m cooking right now, it should be ready in 15 minutes. You can get here that quick on your little bike, can’t you?”

“Ma,” Zell groaned. “It is a sexy and expensive motorcycle. If you’re gonna call it a bike ya gotta say it with a bit more oomph.”

“Yes, Zell, dear, I know what it is. I signed for it since you were under age.”

Zell pouted at the phone. “I still bought it.”

“It’s in my name.”

“Be nice!”

“I’m always nice, dear. Now hurry home, and bring a change of clothes this time. Your PJs are all washed and ready for you from last time.”

“Thank you, Ma. I’ll see you soon.” Zell hung up and walked over to his closet and dresser to pick out what he’d wear tomorrow.

- - -

Irvine tore down the hall and to his dorm as fast as he could, punching in the code lightning fast, practiced from all of his previous escapes.

He dropped his books on the ground before falling there himself. He fell to his knees, hands coming up to cover his tear stained cheeks and rub the dampness away. Why, why, why?? Why was it so easy for them? How could they send him over the edge of despair so quickly, so easily?

It hurt so much. Just seeing them made it hurt. He could never forget anything they had done to him. The sight of them triggered the rush of painful memories and he would be in tears in moments.

He left his books where they were and dragged himself over to his bed crawling onto the mattress and collapsing, too pained, too miserable to care about anything right then. The rim of his hat hit the mattress and dislodged itself from his head, coming to rest on its side.

Irvine lazily picked it up and dropped it on his bedside table before curling up, arms tightly around the pillow his face was currently buried in and cried himself to sleep.

- - -

Seifer hadn’t even bothered to invite Zell back into his room, and the mood between them was definitely not going to make for a pleasant dinner, so that plan was dashed. As soon as his door was open, Seifer had walked into his room and let it shut, not even uttering a ‘good night’, or a ‘see you around’.

He dropped back against the door, leaning against it and glaring moodily about the room.

What the fucking hell was he thinking?!

The blonde jerked from his position against the door and paced around his room. He was ticked, more than ticked. Zell had never, not once in all the time they had spent together since they had become friends, stopped him from doing anything.

So what was up with him? It was strange. Even though he’d never done it, Seifer knew exactly what he had meant, with just a touch. And what surprised Seifer even more was that he obeyed.

He hadn’t shrugged the hand off and continued. He hadn’t pushed for anything more. He had stopped, though quite pissed about it and that confused him a little.

- - -

Zell parked his bike in the little back corner of the Balamb Gas Station. Being a beloved Balamb SeeD and all around liked guy had its perks. No rain ever touched his baby.

He got his little overnight bag out of the seat compartment and made his way down the street to Ma’s. He opened the door without knocking as his mother knew he was on his way and set his things on the sofa in the living room before heading into the kitchen.

Ma was just finishing up with the cooking, so Zell went about setting the table. He smiled when she looked over to him.

“Hey, Ma, smells great.”

“Thank you, dear. I hope you’re hungry.”

“I’m always hungry. I’m a growing boy you know.”

“That’ll be a change from the last five years.”

“Low, Ma, real low.”

She just chuckled and set the food out before removing her apron and sitting down at one end of the little table. Zell sat at the opposite.

“So, you and Seifer got into a fight?” Ma asked, filling her plate up with the delicious meal she had made.

“Ma, we had a disagreement. It wasn’t a fight. It wasn’t that serious.”

“Serious enough to make you want to come home.”

“Can’t a nearly grown boy want to spend some quality time with his mother?” She gave him a look. “Okay, so that might not fly. But it really wasn’t anything big. And besides, it’s a Friday night. I can sleep in my own room and feel like a kid again.” Zell grinned across the table.

“Well, you certainly still have your baby-face. I’m sure all the boys love it.” She ate her dinner and half-hid her smirk behind her chewing.

“Ma, can we not discuss my sex life at the table?”

“Sex? Oh my, Zell. I didn’t know mentioning a young man thinking you were cute lead right to sex.”

“And here I thought you followed gay culture.”

They both chuckled and ate for a while longer.

“So?” She wiggled her brows suggestively at him. “Have you, you know?”

Zell stared across the table. He only wished this wasn’t a fairly common question for her to ask.

“Ma, must you? While we eat?”

“It’s the only time you can’t run into your room, lock your door, and turn your music on.”

He rolled his eyes. She was right. He would have done that had he not had such yummy food on his plate. “Fine, to appease the nosiest mother of all time, no, your sweet little baby boy has not been getting jiggy with it.”

“No cute bottoms?” Ma asked, holding her napkin to her mouth to hold back the laugh. She had meant both subs and butts. Evil woman.

“I’m not going to buy you a Mother’s Day present now,” Zell said firmly, resolving to finish his dinner and escape before she started to get more personal, which she never did.

They finished their dinner, watched Galbadia Idol- through which Ma had pointed out cute boys and Zell kept telling her to be quiet, played a game of Chocoplunker and then went their separate ways for bed.

Zell got into his room and looked around, smiling. Everything was nice and neat and his PJs were folded on his bed. He stripped out of his clothes and tossed them in the hamper, pulling on his baby blue, chocobo-print, silky-feeling PJ pants, and the white tank he used for the top.

He shuffled along the floor in his socks, doing so on purpose so the knob on the bathroom door would shock him when he went to touch it. Zell was a little odd. He scooted in and made himself all pretty for sleep and brushed his bangs down before scooting back into his room and into his bed.

- - -

Saturday was the official, universal, mandatory sleep-in day, unless you were Irvine Kinneas and had moped yourself to sleep a good several hours before any normal teenager would have.

Irvine’s head slowly lifted from his pillows and looked at the clock, its numbers glowing 6:27 at him. He furrowed his brow at the clock. That just wasn’t cool. He looked down at himself to see he was still fully dressed.

He made a face and shifted out from under the covers he had got into some time in the night. He didn’t like sleeping fully dressed. It never was that comfortable and he woke up feeling grimier than usual.

Irvine stripped as soon as he got to his feet and moseyed over to his bathroom to clean up and start another day. He thought about a quite day in Balamb, by himself. Sure it was great to be with his new friends, who protected him from Seifer and Zell, and were fun and kind, but he needed some time away too. He needed some time away from Rikan too.

No matter what the activity, or how many of the group were involved, Rikan was always there, and always was as near to Irvine as he could be, while still just being friendly.

A peaceful day, in Balamb would be good for him. He could take a book in case he felt like studying a bit while he was there too. Yea, that’s what he would do.

After his shower, brushing and braiding his hair, and doing all the other necessary morning activities, Irvine went back into his room to dress and grab one of his books. The Do’s and Don’ts of Weapon Modification. It wasn’t like he needed too much study time with GFs: Friends or Foes, or Guardian Forces: Their Powers and Uses. He was pretty much an expert there.

He pulled on his duster and wrapped a long, thick, cotton-white scarf around his neck. It was chilly out this bloody early. He strode down the halls of Garden rather confident for once since the end of the last sorceress war, being alone and all. There was no hope in hell that Seifer Almasy was up before 7AM on a Saturday.

Irvine exited the Garden and breathed in the clean, fresh air of the cool autumn morning. He was even more awake then and happily headed off towards the town of Balamb. Only a few very groggy BiteBugs cared enough to wake up and attack him. He shot two, then walked up to the third and hit it on the head with the barrel of his gun, just because he didn’t think he’d get that particular chance too many more times.

- - -

Irvine’s day was going great. He had a big breakfast at a seaside café which served him for lunch as well. He’d probably grab a snack when he got back to Garden, and have dinner at the usual time. Didn’t want to throw his schedule off too badly.

It was early afternoon now, and he had wandered off toward the pier to watch the water and the goings on. He glanced to his right when he heard footsteps coming towards him. He tensed up automatically, fearing that it would be one of the blondes. He turned his gaze over his shoulder and gave a sigh of relief.

He looked back over the water and chuckled faintly. “Hello, Mr. Biker,” Irvine greeted as the man sat down next to him, wearing his helmet as always.

Zell nodded his head in greeting. Irvine seemed at ease around him when he thought he was a complete stranger. It was kind of funny.

“Where’s your bike?” Irvine asked, turning to face the mystery man, who hooked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the front of town. “And you’re wearin’ your helmet… why?” Irvine cocked a brow.

Zell shifted his hand from over his shoulder to point at Irvine.

“Oh really? I’m still not allowed to, like, know who you are?” A shake of the helmeted head. “You know, that’s not very nice.” A shake of the shoulders. “It’s amazin’ we talk so much.” Irvine snorted.

Irvine glanced down at something rectangular in the other man’s lap. “Whatcha got there?”

Zell held up the little notebook before flipping it open and clicking a pen. He wrote /Hi/.

Irvine looked over at it and chuckled. “Hi, to you too. You’re strange.”

Zell nodded. /What’s your name?/

Irvine Kinneas. Orphan. Raised at an orphanage run by Edea Kramer on Centra with myself, Seifer, Quistis, Selphie, Squall and Ellone. Then, I dunno, and then off to Galbadia. Heh, it’ll put him further off my scent to ask.

Irvine looked up at the biker. “Irvine… it’s funny to have people not recognize me. Heh. Guess I’ve gotten use to, like, being a celebrity. What’s your name?”

/Call me Rubedo/ Zell wrote. He wasn’t even totally lying either. That was the middle name Ma had given him.

“Rubedo, hm? And how about, why do you refuse to take off your helmet?”

/I take it off. Just not around you./

Irvine raised a brow. “And why is that?”

/This is fun./

Irvine laughed. “I guess it kinda is. How old are you?”

/18, you?/

“I’m seventeen.” Irvine waved at a couple that was walking by and looking at them funny. Irvine wasn’t usually so interested in asking questions, but the biker had been a mystery for a number of days, and now he was finally getting some answers. “Cadet or SeeD?”

Zell thought quickly about how many male, eighteen year old SeeDs there were at Garden. There were a few. Enough that he could truthfully give away the answer.

/SeeD/

“That’s pretty impressive. Bein’ a SeeD at 18. Guess it’s what they expect though, huh? Since you can become one at 15, and are, like, kicked out at 20 if ya didn’t make it.”

Zell nodded. He was really happy about being a SeeD. Now that he was good friends with Seifer he was also worried about him. He didn’t have that much longer to pass, and he desperately wanted to keep Seifer in Garden. They were such good friends after so many years of fighting and hating.

A hand waved in front of Zell’s face and he looked back at Irvine.

“I can’t even see your face and I still knew you zoned out. Your body language is easy to read.”

/You looking at my body, Irvine?/

The cowboy flushed a soft pink. “No, I’m just, like, usin’ my skills of observation. It’s important to be able to read body language.”

/I know. I’m just kidding./

“Oh, sorry.”

/Sore subject?/

Irvine laughed, but it wasn’t a happy laugh. It was a confused, hurt, agreeing, understating kind of laugh. “You wouldn’t even believe me if I told you.”

Zell lifted a hand to rest on Irvine’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze and rubbing his thumb against the duster.

/I’m sorry./

And he was sorry. For a lot more than Irvine would ever know right then.